Perdition Series: Closing Walls and Ticking Clocks
by missBAMF
Summary: What happens when the Vulcan you just realized you're hopelessly and utterly in love with, is framed and sentenced to life in a penal colony? This is the first in a trilogy I'm doing. It's loaded with angst and h/c. Features a hurt!Jim and a very hurt!Spock (I'm not kidding, I rake Spock over the coals in this) K/S slash, graphic violence, angst, more warnings inside.
1. Physical Altercations

**A.N. After Star Trek Into Darkness...I became completely enthralled with this fandom. I literally watched every single TOS episode (and rewatch them frequently) and have crept all over , livejournal, and KSarchive reading the fan fiction for this fandom. Now, I've decided to finally contribute! This story is going to be three parts, and I'm going to load it with warnings. First warning is that this is going to be extremely angsty and dark. I mean...I'm not kidding, this fic visits some very dark themes and elements that were actually painful for me to write at times. There is a shit ton of hurt/comfort in this fic, and the hurt comes waaaaaaaaay before the comfort. Suffice it to say, this is not for the faint of heart, and if Graphic explicit violence, non-con situations, or language effect or offend you, then this is not a story for you to read. I'm being dead serious when I say that this story WILL BE extremely graphic. I like to write realistically and for you to understand the emotional changes rendered by the characters in the story, I feel that the graphic scenes which contribute to these changes are necessary. However...I will place warnings before each chapter if there's going to be anything that is graphic (not every chapter is going to be a torture fest I assure you) **

**Secondly, this is SLASH, and more specifically...K/S slash. So you're flaming is not welcome here. You don't approve of Kirk and Spock as a couple? I really don't care, don't read it. However, I'm just warning you in case you do and you don't waste your time reading it. **

**This story picks up right after Star Trek Into Darkness, and the slash part is very very slow building. I don't have a beta reader, and I'm not a professional writer so bear with me on an mistakes I might make. I'm not perfect, and I'm doing this for fun and enjoyment. I hope you guys enjoy the story! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek...that honor belongs to Mr. Roddenbury.**

Earth

Stardate 2259.267:

It had been six months and twenty-four days since the events involving Khan and the Enterprise; six months and twenty-four days into their one year of ordered shore leave. At first the crew had been ecstatic to, as they coined it, finally get a break from it all. The Enterprise's near-death experience had certainly caused a steady decline in crew morale, what with the death of so many crew members, including the captain's. Spock still shuddered at that particular memory.

Of course, Spock had long ago determined that shore leave was not something he required. He knew that, despite everything that had happened recently, such as his emotional breakdown over what he assumed had been Jim's death; he would have been able to continue his duties in a commendable fashion. Nevertheless, he deduced that his more human crewmates, including those who were not human, could benefit greatly from an extended shore leave.

However, whereas a time like this was supposed to help bring about a sense of peace and relaxation, Spock deduced that it had brought nothing but grief for Captain James T. Kirk, and dare he say…himself.

Since Jim had first been able to leave the medbay at Starfleet Headquarters five months and fifteen days ago, he had been accosted almost daily by the press, public, and a large margin of Starfleet personnel stationed in San Francisco. They were already famous after the _Narada, _but everything that happened with Admiral Marcus and Khan just increased that level of fame.

A year ago, Spock knew his blue-eyed, ego-inflated captain would have reveled in all the attention, but burying a third of the crew was enough to humble anyone. However, even with such a substantial death toll, endless award ceremonies and invites to the most elite social gatherings had been given out almost non-stop for the famed captain and his senior officers. Now, going on seven months almost, Spock could easily discern that his captain had had about enough attention as he could stand.

"I swear to God, Spock, if ONE more of these bastards comes up and offers to buy me a drink, I'm gonna go ape-shit," Jim exclaimed irritably as he and Spock were making their way quickly and forcibly to an isolated booth at the back of _The Admiral's Arms; _a bar in San Francisco near Headquarters.

Aside from the increasingly frequent time he spent in Jim's company as of late, he had yet to accompany him to an establishment such as this, and the experience so far had been quite an educational one for him. He had always assumed humans to be over emotional in social gatherings that served little purpose, but apparently when they were inebriated, these emotional exhibitions nearly doubled in amount.

Jim was carrying two extremely large drafts of alcohol, and despite being slightly inebriated himself, was doing a commendable job at not spilling them. Spock inclined his head at his captain, confused by his choice of words.

"Captain, while I am quite sure that not all of these individuals are without their fathers in this establishment, I find myself perplexed. Please clarify how one goes '_ape-shit'_?"

Jim turned his head to him and smirked, obviously highly amused. _Then again, when is Jim not amused? _Spock pondered to himself.

"Trust me Spock, you know _exactly _how one might go ape-shit, and please, I've told you to call me Jim when we're not on duty," he replied; his voiced laced with humorous accusation. Spock was still confused, but decided not to comment further on it and filed the term away in the already lengthy list of colloquialisms for him to research later. Despite all his years spent with and around humans, certain idioms still baffled him on occasion. He had to admit though, he was getting better at understanding them due in large part to Nyota.

Spock could not stop the illogical pang of emotion that hit him as he thought about his former romantic interest. Last week, to his shock, the two of them had come to the decision to end their romantic relationship. His eidectic memory would never allow him to forget the conversation that too place...

"I love you Spock, and I always will, but I just don't think it's a good idea to be more than friends with one another," Nyota had voiced clearly and painfully from across the table in the quiet dining establishment he had been invited to accompany her to. He had sensed her distress and anxiety when she had made him the invitation, but he would never have guessed that she would wish to terminate their relationship.

"You wish…to terminate our relationship?" Spock queried, wanting to be certain he had understood her correctly.

She nodded glumly before becoming more specific. "Just the romantic aspect of it, Spock. I'm still your friend you know…"

Spock wrinkled his eyebrows in bemusement.

"I do not understand. Have I done something to offend you? Have I been negligent?" he had asked her in as calm a tone as he could manage, while varying reasons had instantly bombarded his mind. He had never admitted it vocally to her, but he had always felt slightly insecure in their relationship. Being that he was not entirely human, he constantly worried that Nyota would find his Vulcan mannerisms leaving much to be desired. Sexual relations for instance, as he had come to observe, were much more open and casual in human society as opposed to Vulcan society, where companions preferred to be bonded first before engaging in sexual intercourse. He had yet to copulate with Nyota. Perhaps she desired this, and if she did, would he be willing to grant her such a thing?

_Do you even desire to?_ A small voice protested within him, but he pushed it aside as Nyota began speaking again, her expression one of hurt and bewilderment.

"No! No of course not Spock! You haven't done _anything_ wrong. Don't ever think that!" she admonished him sincerely, and reached across the table to grab his hand in hers. A strong sense of _love, reassurance, _and an immense wave of _sadness_ surged through the link.

"Then why..." Spock had begun, and the grip on his hand became tighter. Suddenly, there had been an image of Jim soaring through the link, and even though it was only there for a fleeting second, it might as well have been lingering for hours. Instantly, he had dropped her hand, and let his eyes fall to his lap. "…I see," he said softly. From her thoughts he could deduce that she believed him to harbor deeper feelings for the captain, feelings that _could be_ termed romantic.

Suddenly, desires and wishes that he had been denying for the past six months were forced to the surface.

As he sat there, debating the possibilities in his mind, he could not help but wrinkle his eyes in slight irritation, and snap his head back up to face her.

"How did you arrive at this conclusion when I myself have yet to acknowledge such a conclusion even exists?" Spock had all but sputtered. He knew his—_feelings_—concerning the captain ran deep. In many ways, deeper than he cared to admit. It had not been until he had watched the light leave those blue fire eyes that Spock really knew how much the captain—_Jim_—had meant to him. However, he had yet to act, nor admit to these emotions, as he was not entirely certain of what they meant, if they meant anything at all.

If his mother had still been alive, he would have inquired to her about such matters, and his heart had panged at the thought that that would be impossible, now and forever more. The second most logical choice would have been his father, but just the mere thought of asking him anything even _remotely_ related to having—_feelings—_for the captain was intimidating.

Nyota, for some unfathomable reason, had obviously caught on to this almost daily internal struggle, which would explain why she had chosen to carry out this conversation with him. Had he been that obvious about it? If indeed that had been the case, he was deeply ashamed, and his father would have been ashamed that he had let such feelings show.

She had laughed lightly before smiling up at him, but the smile, Spock noticed, did not reach her eyes.

"I'm a woman Spock. We know these things," she answered as if it was the most logical thing in the world. Spock pursed his lips with what he denied was again, irritation.

"That is not a viable answer. You cannot presume to know of what my, how I _perceive _the captain," Spock had argued bitterly and instantly felt ashamed afterward. This had been _why _he had not analyzed such feelings yet. All it did was confuse him more, which in turn, had only angered him further, and caused him to react emotionally. He was Vulcan. This behavior was unacceptable.

Nyota huffed as she took a sip from her wine, and clanged it back down on the table. Spock surmised this to be an expression of irritation directed at him.

"Seriously, Spock? The way you look at him? Like he's the only one in existence at that very moment? The way you hang on to his every word? Or how about the way you fought for him when you thought he was gone? How you abandoned every logical rule in the Vulcan handbook to avenge what you thought was his death? And no—I'm not saying you did the wrong thing so don't look at me like that!" Nyota had hastily added at the stony glare he had set her with.

Instantly, he had composed himself.

"There's only one emotion I can think of that would lead to a reaction like that," Nyota had stated fiercely, drawing various gazes from across the restaurant. He wished she would lower her voice. It was enough to have _her_ witness him like this. Let alone strangers.

"Nyota..." Spock started, but she had cut him off.

"_Love_ Spock. You love him!" she admitted almost desperately, and her eyes had begun to moisten. He had blinked at her, completely speechless. He had felt the pain radiating off her in waves, and it crushed him to know that he was the one to have caused it. Her words however, had left him sitting there in silence. He had not had time to analyze what exactly he felt for the captain, but love? Could that really be what it was he felt? Looking at Nyota then, though, he could not deny that he had felt something for her too. It was not love, at least not in the romantic sense, but he had harbored affection for her. Had she perhaps questioned this?

"Nyota," Spock had leveled his eyes at her. "I do care for you, despite what you may believe," he had finished in a soft tone. She had leaned in towards him, and taken his hand a second time, her skin had been hot to the touch. Her gaze, he remembered, had been imploring.

"But you don't love me…at least, not like that," she had started. He had opened his mouth to argue that Vulcans did not _love,_ as love was a human emotion, but she had quickly continued, thereby not given a chance to. "Of course you _care_ about me Spock, and just because we're not together, doesn't mean that you'll stop caring about me, just like I won't stop caring about you," and here she had let go of his hand. "But you'll never look at me like that, and I won't be the person who stands in the way of your happiness. Too many people have done that to you Spock, and I won't be added to the list," she finished, and had pulled her hands together to cover her eyes, whereupon she began crying softly.

The human in him had wanted to embrace her, to fight away her tears which were because of him, emotion be damned. But he was unsure if it would be warranted.

"You were there every single day he was in the hospital, Spock. You practically never left his side! And for the past, almost seven months now, you've spent more time with him than you have with me! You're girlfriend!" Nyota's voice had grown louder again.

"Captain Kirk is my superior officer, and as Starfleet has just experienced a crisis situation, it is only logical that the majority of my time be spent in his presence to help deal with the consequences," Spock had rebutted quietly, and averted her gaze.

Her expression had remained unconvinced.

"Really Spock? So meeting him at his apartment five days a week for chess, or whatever it is you guys do, is _dealing with the consequences? _Sending him messages, inviting him to go with you to see your mother's hometown, is professional?" Nyota had accused and instantly, her eyes had widened as her hand shot to her mouth in an expression of shock.

Spock had raised an eyebrow.

_The message. _He had sent it two days before to Jim, but he had yet to recieve a reply. He had convinced himself that with how busy the captain had been, he just had not had the time to read it. As he sat there though, that was not what he cared about. At that moemnt, he had only cared about how _Nyota_ had found out about the message, when he had never even told her about it.

"May I inquire as to how you came by this knowledge?" He had asked crisply, his eyebrow still elevated. Averting his gaze, she had twiddled her hands nervously before answering.

"I…read it on your computer terminal," she had answered quietly.

He had felt more irritation.

"And why, might I ask, were you endeavoring to read my personal messages?"

Her sheepish look had transcended into a glare, and she had sat up straighter in her chair. "Firstly, you left your account open on the computer that _WE SHARE,_ so I couldn't help but read the damn message, Spock. Next time…send that shit over your PADD..."

He had opened his mouth to interrupt, but she stuck a finger in his face. Half the restaurant had been staring at them by this point.

"—And _secondly_, shouldn't you be more concerned with why you're asking your _superior officer_ to accompany you on what's clearly a personal trip, that you _should_ be asking your girlfriend to go on?" Nyota had finished loudly, and at once he had seen the point she was trying to make. As his romantic companion, Nyota should have been the logical _and_ emotional choice should she not? Instead, he had chosen Jim without a second thought.

There had been a few moments of awkward silence where Nyota just openly gaped at him, waiting for him to respond. He had no logical argument to follow up with.

"I am...sorry that I hurt you," he had settled for, and he had meant it most sincerely. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Nyota, and he had carelessly done so. She had taken a few more moments to collect herself, before she sighed heavily and peered back at him.

"There's nothing to apologize for. You can't help who you love. I'm just…sorry that it wasn't me after all," she had answered sadly.

"That is incorrect. You are right in your assessment of my actions. I should have extended the invitation to you firstly," he had went on, and ignored the guilt that swelled up within him.

"No Spock. You shouldn't have. You obviously wanted Jim to go with you, and not me and—_let me finish—," s_he had implored as he opened his mouth again, "—and that's okay. I…I want you to do what makes you happy. If you love him…"

"This emotion you keep referring to has yet to be determined, Nyota. Let me point out that for me to act on a particular emotion, it must first exist," Spock had stated almost tiredly. She had stared evenly at him, and it had made him feel illogically like he had been three feet tall.

"Wouldn't you say it's _logical,_ Spock, that until you do _determine_ just what it is you feel for Kirk, that you not be in a romantic relationship with me?" Nyota had asked him pointedly, making him raise another eyebrow. He could not fault her logic, and she had smiled in spite of herself, but again…it had not reached her eyes.

"That's what I thought, but so help me, if that bastard hurts you…"

And that had been that.

Of course news of their break up had reached the rest of the Enterprise's senior officers within the course of a few days, but the details of just why the couple had split up remained a secret at Spock's request. Under no circumstances, was the captain to know of the troubling feelings Spock had been harboring for him. Nyota fortunately, had agreed earnestly to keep their conversation private.

"It's not my place anyway, Spock," she had assured him, and he had no reason not to believe her, for she had been correct. However it was because of said breakup that Jim had dragged him, along with the doctor, to the drinking establishment they now inhabited. According to the captain, the Vulcan was in need of a '_boy's night out,'_ as the human had termed it. Spock decided to accept their invitation, even though he had no idea what a _boy's night out_ even was. He agreed solely on the fact that the captain—_Jim_, would be there.

As they neared closer to their chosen booth, Spock was brought out of his musings right when Dr. McCoy peered up from his third alcoholic beverage of the evening, and beckoned impatiently for them to take a seat.

"For the love of God, I've been sitting here by myself for so long, I think I've started to mold to the damn seat! What? Did one of you fall in or something?" McCoy spat, exasperated as he brought his drink down with unnecessary force.

Spock raised his eyebrow at the outburst. "To what are you referring to Doctor? I can assure you that both the Cap, _Jim_ and myself remained in a standing position for the entirety of our departure from you. There was none of this, _falling,_ that you speak of_._"

Dr. McCoy rolled his eyes and took another swig from his drink, completely emptying the glass. Jim, who had remained silent, suddenly scooted over the second beverage in his hand to the doctor who grasped it greedily.

"Well, how gracious of you Jim, you thought of me. I'm touched!" Dr. McCoy stated in an exaggerated tone, earning a small chuckle from Jim.

Spock felt the corners of his mouth quirk in as much a smile as he would permit, for Jim's laughter was definitely a thing to behold.

And since when?

"I always think of you, Bones," Jim replied lightly, unaware of Spock's slip in emotion. The doctor took a giant swig from his newly acquired beverage, and jerked his head in the direction that they had come from.

"So really Jim, what the hell took so long?"

It was Jim's turn to look annoyed now.

"What do you think, Bones? I swear I can't go anywhere is this damned city without getting swarmed! I'm about to lose my mind here!" Jim replied angrily. Dr. McCoy however, looked shocked, or, Spock deduced, _pretented_ to looked shock. in the time spent in the doctor's presence, Spock had come to learn that the majority of the human's facial expressions were overly dramatized. It definitely proved tiring to Spock to constantly analyze the sincerity of his expressions, much less his illogical statements.

"My oh my, I never thought I'd see the day when James T. Kirk was actually unhappy about being in the spot light! Hell must have frozen over," Dr. McCoy exclaimed sarcastically, and while Spock was confused by his reference to the human religious location known as _Hell,_ and what it had to do with winter conditions, he found himself agreeing with the doctor as to Jim's usually large ego.

"I too agree with Dr. McCoy's statement, I have always assumed you found attention to be pleasing, Jim."

Dr. McCoy looked up at Spock and smiled, which in itself was a rarity as far as Spock was concerned.

"You see? Even the Vulcan agrees with me, which basically means I'm right," Dr. McCoy added playfully.

Jim sighed and regarded them both with irritation.

"Okay fine, I may have a…a rather _large_ ego, but there's still only so much a person can take, even someone as amazing as myself," Jim defended cheekily.

"Oh God here we go…" from Dr. McCoy as he palmed his forehead. An expression of annoyance, Spock had deduced.

"HOWEVER—," and Jim looked pointedly to his friend, "—you have to admit Bones, Starfleet has been up our asses so much these past seven months, that I'm starting to wonder why we just don't have our own reality show. And not only that, but they act like no one died!" Jim suddenly looked very angry as he continued. "Like Marcus and that fucking Khan bastard didn't try to commit mass murder! They just carry on happily ignoring the sacrifices those men and women made! It makes me fucking sick," he finished, and also took a rather large swig from his drink.

Spock inwardly bristled at the mention of Khan, there had not been a person he hated more...not even Nero.

Eyebrows quirked, Spock began to say something but was cut off again by Jim. "This is supposed to be a damn shore leave, which is really just code for—_we got our asses kicked and Starfleet wants us to collect our fucking marbles—_but it's just been one award, interview, or whatever the hell you want to call it, after another! I just want to get back up in space ya'know? Away from all this. We've been on the ground too long." Jim finished longingly.

Spock noticed that Jim's face had become quite somber, and he stared fixedly at his glass. Errantly, he wondered if Jim had yet to read his invitation regarding the trip he intended to take. However, he decided not to ask, and _not_ because he could not bear it if Jim actually refused him.

Dr. McCoy stared pityingly at his friend. Spock took this as he did not know what to say. Perhaps it would be prudent then, for Spock to say something himself. He did not wish to see such a somber expression on Jim's face.

"While I do agree that this has not been a very traditional shore leave, captain—," Spock started.

"Jim, Spock…_Jim,_" Jim corrected tiredly, still gazing at his glass as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

"Very well, Jim. While I do agree that this has not been what humans exactly identify as a respectable shore leave, I do not think it will be much longer until Starfleet makes the decision to send the Enterprise back into space for the five-year mission. Therefore, I find it reasonable to conclude you will not have to endure these emotions you are experiencing much longer," Spock asserted earnestly. While he had no facts to back up his statement, which made it completely illogical, he could not help himself. For some reason, he felt, _actually felt, _the need to offer some form of encouragement to his captain, his friend, and perhaps more, who obviously had needed it.

Jim looked up from his drink and gave Spock a small, but sincere smile. Spock felt a warm stirring in his abdomen at the gesture, and it immediately confused him. Since when did the captain's smiles provoke that kind of reaction from him?

He filed it away so that he could meditate on it at a later date. Now was not a logical time to do so.

"Thanks Spock," Jim said warmly, and Dr. McCoy looked from Spock to Jim, and then back from Jim to Spock again.

"Well I'll be damned, did Spock actually just attempt to cheer you up?" the doctor accused in a voice laced with disbelief.

Jim chuckled lightly, and slapped his hand on Spock's shoulder in a friendly gesture. To any other Vulcan, this would be highly inappropriate, but Spock had become accustomed to Jim's unorthodox behavior towards him, and it did not bother him anymore. In fact, he found himself yearning for the touch as the days passed, though he would never admit to it.

Spock turned his gaze from Jim back to the doctor. "I would like to clarify, Dr. McCoy, that I made no such attempt," the Vulcan started before he was quickly cut off by McCoy.

"Bullshit, Spock. You were trying to cheer him up, don't try and deny it," Dr. McCoy argued, swigging down more alcohol in the process. Spock raised his eyebrows higher this time.

"If you would allow me to finish, Doctor?" he asserted. Both his fellow humans shared a quick glance. Jim gave a small shrug, and Dr. McCoy lazily motioned for Spock to continue with a wave of his hand.

Spock canted his head.

"Thank you. I was endeavoring to say that no attempt was made…judging by the radical shift in facial expression, and the subtle altering of his tone of voice, the captain has indeed been cheered. My attempt, as you call it, was successful." Spock was not sure what had caused it, or why, but suddenly both the humans at his booth had gone into a fit of laughter. Dr. McCoy had his face plastered on the table in an attempt to mask his manical hilarity, while Jim was sprawled back in his seat, clutching at his side, laughing hysterically. By the way he held his torso, Spock briefly wondering if his stomach was distressing him, but the laughter would suggest otherwise.

The noise was beginning to draw the attention of the other inhabitants of the bar, who were shooting them curious looks.

"I fail to see what is so amusing," Spock decided to pipe in.

"Oh…shit, Spock," Jim managed to get out between his laughter, already beginning to regain his composure. "I knew there was a reason I kept you around as my First Officer."

"I would deduce that you have _kept me around, _sir as a direct consequence of my abilities as Science Officer, as well my ability to—," Spock would have continued his argument, but the doctor and his captain were laughing even harder now, only adding to his confusion, though he could not help the feeling of warmth that seemed to encase him, yet again, whenever Jim laughed in his presence. It was such an endearing sound and he found it pleasantly pleasing.

Dr. McCoy seemed to notice his puzzled expression and started to calm himself enough to talk to him. "We're laughing Spock, because, believe this or not, we think you might have actually just told a joke," the doctor revealed with a rather large smile on his face.

Spock tried hard not appear offended. "Illogical," he stated plainly, and for some reason, this only caused the laughter to return full spectrum. Spock deduced that the two humans before him were now sufficiently inebriated, and that their behavior was a direct result of that. He had been around inebriated humans before, and it seemed like they acted highly emotional in regards to everything. In this case, an overabundance of laughter seemed to be the emotional response exhibited.

"Perhaps gentlemen, it would be wise to cease your consumption of alcohol, I detect that you both are beginning to become highly intoxicated," Spock suggested, knowing that such a suggestion would be in vain.

"Nonsense Spock, we've only just started!" Jim defended loudly.

Spock sat straighter in his seat.

"Perhaps you may think so Jim, but Dr. McCoy is now consuming his fourth alcoholic beverage this evening," Spock pointed out in a matter of fact tone. Dr. McCoy glared at him and then guzzled the remaining liquid in his glass. When he was finished, he slammed the glass down hard onto the table and stared straight into Spock's eyes.

"Make that my fifth," the doctor slurred, and began to stumble out of their booth and towards the bar. It was obvious he was going to purchase more alcohol. Spock suppressed a sigh, and began to rise; however, Jim grabbed his elbow lightly, signaling for him to sit back down.

Spock, with difficulty, ignored the seemingly electric tingle that shot up his arm and through his body at the contact, and resigned himself back in the seat.

"Jim, I do not think it is wise to allow Dr. McCoy to wander this establishment unattended, he could injure himself," Spock argued in a nonchalant tone.

Jim smirked at him.

"Feelings for the good Doctor, Spock?"

Spock inclined an eyebrow. "I do not understand."

Jim rolled his eyes at his response before fixing him with a serious stare. Spock blinked at him.

"Look Spock, he can take care of himself, okay? He's been doing this for a long time now; you're just not used to seeing him, you know, all emotional and what not."

"That is incorrect, from my observations of Dr. McCoy, he is quite emotional the majority of the time I am in his presence."

Jim laughed but did not comment. Spock continued to look at him with a questioning gaze, but Jim was not forthcoming. He did not see a severe amount of harm in being slightly inebriated. Living amongst humans for so long, he knew it was a part of their culture. A means to _wind down, _as Nyota had once clarified to him, but for the captain to allow his Chief Medical Officer to become severely inebriated? This he did not understand.

Jim studied Spock's face and obviously noticed his confusion, because he sighed heavily and nursed his forehead with his hands. "Look, Spock…" he said as he dropped his gaze down to the table before peering back up again to fix said gaze on the Vulcan. "This is what people do when they come to places like this. They get drunk, they make scenes…they act _illogical,_" Jim explained with a hard stare, like he was speaking to a child.

"I am neither _drunk_, nor acting illogically, captain. Yet, I am in attendance," Spock stated plainly.

"I'm aware of this Spock, your point being?" Jim asked, his tone slightly irritated.

"My point being is that, if the reasons for coming to such a place are as you stated them to be, I do not understand why you took the liberty to invite me to accompany you and Dr. McCoy tonight."

Jim suddenly looked offended. Had he done something wrong?

"You just got out of a pretty serious relationship, Spock. I thought you could use some…you know…emo—support!" the captain argued as he quickly corrected himself.

"I am Vulcan sir, this _support _you refer to is unneeded."

Jim suddenly looked annoyed, almost angry. Why was it that Spock could not find the correct thing to say in this situation? He did not wish Jim to be angry with him, yet he was succeeding in doing just that.

"I just thought you'd like to spend time with me as a friend Spock, you know? Not as my First Officer, just as my friend, and no, I know we hang out a lot at my apartment, but I'm talking about out in the open. And, well, this is what friends _do_ with each other. They spend time with each other. And when they _think _the other one is upset over the sudden conclusion of a relationship that's been ongoing for a few years, they try to be there to support them, no matter how much they might not think they _need _it." Jim said passionately, before looking away with a hurtful expression. "I'm sorry if I assumed the wrong thing," he ended rather bitterly, and sipped from his drink unenthusiastically.

Spock was a little taken aback. He knew Jim considered him a friend, and, though he would never admit it to his father, he also considered Jim a friend, and much more than that, but these practices were _alien_ to him. He had never been invited to just _hang out_ as the humans termed it. He had always assumed that, while he functioned adequately with his colleagues in a professional setting, they did not seek his company outside of it, which would explain why he never was invited to social gatherings. Yes, he spent a considerable amount of his free time with Jim at his apartment, but it was usually over a game of chess, or to discuss issues related to the current happenings in Starfleet. Such times were logical. _A__nd wanted. Yearned for._

He had never before wished to attend these social gatherings in the first place, as they served no logical purpose. In fact, if someone would have asked him a year ago, he would have declined. Even Nyota had tried on numerous occasions to get him more socially involved_, _but he always refused. To Vulcans, spending time with one another outside of the pursuit of some intelligent goal was illogical; since said time would be better spent _doing_ something logical. Unless the Vulcans in question were Bondmates, or parent and child, then a relationship outside of that was not spoken of. Friendships were not viewed as logical to Vulcans, unless there was some logical benefit to such a relationship.

Now though, he was starting to feel differently. He was starting to wish for things that he had not wished for since he had been a child.

As a child, Spock often desired to seek out friends. To quench the loneliness he often felt, much to the doing of his human half. (A half that had most undoubtedly run more rampant in his youth until he learned to control it.) It surprised Spock to come to the realization that here he was, acting illogically, and he did not have an ounce of regret about it. _Because Jim is here._

Spock had been so deep in these thoughts that he did not acknowledge Jim sigh and turn away from him. It was only the captain's voice which brought him back to reality.

"Just forget about it Spock, okay? As soon as Bones gets back, we'll get out of here, and you can go home. Or we can go play chess, I know you like when we do that," Jim told him in a defeated tone.

Spock could tell that he had offended his friend; that through his actions, Jim assumed that Spock would rather not spend time with him outside of a professional capacity at all. This was not the case.

"Jim, you misunderstand me," Spock stated in a determined voice, which caused the captain to swivel back around and stare at him, truly curious now. He knew that what he was about to admit was extremely private to him, but he wanted Jim to understand.

"I am not stating that time spent with you and Dr. McCoy is in anyway unpleasant to me, but rather…I have observed in my time spent amongst humans that I do not belong; that I cannot participate in your customs, and thus, it is logical to assume that I may provoke you to feel somewhat awkward." Spock paused briefly, suddenly finding it difficult to voice what he wished to say.

Jim waited, appearing as if he were hanging onto every word.

"I…I believe that you and the doctor would benefit from your time more efficiently without my presence," he finished, and tried immensely to keep his tone even, plain, and without emotional inflection. However, Spock could not help the slight regret for his situation to taint his voice. Inside, he berated himself for allowing this slip in emotion.

He glanced at Jim, awaiting a response. What if he agreed with Spock? What if he did decide his free time would be better spent without Spock's company? He felt a trickle of fear emerge at such a thing, but stomped it back down as quickly as it had appeared.

After what felt like hours, but had in reality only been five point two seconds, Jim finally responded.

"Man, you have GOT to be kidding me!" Jim shouted. Spock continued to stare, perplexed by the reaction. Whatever he had been expecting, it had not been that.

"I assure you Jim, I do not jest," Spock tried to explain, suddenly coming to the conclusion that saying anything at all had been a grave mistake.

Jim started shaking his head, and waving his hand in the air. "No, no that's not what I mean…" he paused to run his hand through his dirty blond hair. Errantly Spock wondered what Jim's hair would feel like to his own, sensitive fingers, and was immediately ashamed of the thought. If he had been human, he would have blushed. He was certain of it.

"Spock, I know that you don't participate in stupid shit like this," Jim waved his hands about him, indicating the atmosphere of the establishment. "And that because of that, you feel somehow—pardon the expression—but _alienated_."

Spock raised his eyebrows, but Jim soldiered on. "But I want you to understand something," and here Jim's gaze became hard and serious, and he leaned slightly closer into Spock, who fought the urge to lean in closer as well. "I hope I'm not committing some kind of big Vulcan offense by saying this, but…I consider you my best friend Spock, and there's no—_no—_situation that you could embarrass me in. Do you understand?"

He sounded desperate.

Spock took a moment to consider Jim's words, which were eliciting profound emotions within him. He was just about to answer when a loud shattering bellowed across the bar, causing both of them to forget about their sentimental moment, and turn rapidly towards the source. Spock noticed that Dr. McCoy was lying on his stomach on the floor across the room, clutching at his nose which was bleeding profusely. He let his keen Vulcan eyes travel up to what appeared to be four sizable men, one of which sported so many tattoos and piercings; one could barely make out his natural skin color. It did not take a logical mind like Spock's to come to the conclusion that these men were highly inebriated.

"If I wanted your smart ass mouth you piece of Starfleet shit, I'd ask for it!" the largest of the four taunted as he made to grab the Doctor by his jacket, and no doubt further assault him.

"Son of a bi..." Jim started, but Spock did not hear the rest, for he had already risen and made his way over to the doctor with so much speed, that when he stopped defensively in front of McCoy, the four men stumbled back in surprise.

"You will cease this attack," Spock said evenly as he glared severely at the men. By now Jim had come over as well, and immediately kneeled down to help the doctor up, who was still clutching at his nose in pain.

"Dammit Jim…I think my nose is fractured," Dr. McCoy stated as best he could through all the blood colluding his face. The entire bar was silent now, all eyes glued to the confrontation in front of them. It was fascinating to Spock how violence never failed to capture everyone's attention—regardless of species.

"Cease? Are you fucking kidding me right now? Just who the hell are you to tell us what to do, you fucking elf!" the heavily tattooed man bellowed. The smell of alcohol on his breath was overpowering, bringing Spock to the conclusion that his earlier assumption had been correct, these men were highly inebriated, and therefore would be harder to reason with.

Spock took no notice to the derogatory remark they had made about him, although he could feel Jim tense slightly beside him, and open his mouth to lash some form of an insult back at them. However, the look that Spock gave his friend was enough to silence him, for now.

"You have just struck a Starfleet Officer, for which the penalties are..." Spock had started to list them off, but one of the men interrupted him as he strode dangerously close to the Vulcan, his eyes cold and narrowed.

"And I'm about to strike another one if you don't shut your mouth, you hear what I'm sayin'?"

Spock held his gaze with confidence, but raised his eyebrows.

"Have I done something to infer to you that my hearing is impaired? Of course I can discern what you are saying, however, I will continue to speak freely despite your previous request," Spock could tell he was angering the man. His whole frame shook in barely contained rage, but he would not back down.

"You've got a smart mouth, _Vulcan_." The man said the word like it was something disgusting. "I think you've got an even smarter mouth than your bitch friend over there." The man finished as he glanced aggressively at Dr. McCoy, who looked menacing with the crimson blood covering his face.

That was all it took for Jim to react.

With a look of pure rage, his captain made to move towards the men, his hands already balled up into fists. Spock shot his own hand out and set it against his friend's chest, silently forbidding him to engage in hostile action. Violence was always to be a last resort.

Jim looked put out at Spock's gesture, and attempted to move his hand but Spock would not let up, and soon he found himself containing his captain easily with his arms, preventing him from engaging the men. Jim became increasingly angry at his attempts to restrain him. Spock could feel the emotion radiating off his captain in waves.

"Godammit Spock! Let me go! So I can beat the shit out of these assholes!" Jim pleaded angrily, but Spock would not release his hold.

"We must not resort to violence Jim, it must only be used as a last—,"

"Spock eh? Like…like THE Spock?" One of the four men stated, realization dawning on them. Jim suddenly stopped struggling, intrigued by the group's sudden interest in him.

"Yes, my name is Spock, First Officer on board the Enterprise," Spock clarified, not seeing how this information was relevant. To Spock's utter surprise, all four of the men started laughing hysterically. Spock turned to Jim and Dr. McCoy, who in turn just stared back at him in bewilderment. The rest of the bar's inhabitants looked to each other nervously, especially the bartender, who was holed up against the far wall, fear evident in his eyes. Perhaps he had seen these men in action before.

"And you are the famous Captain Kirk? I figured you'd be taller in real life." This statement only fueled the laughter that the men were exhibiting. However, being that that laughter was now taking place at his captain's expense, Spock could not help the flame of anger which had begun to take root in the pit of his stomach.

"I apologize; I do not see the humor in this situation," Spock stated evenly, as if he were just commenting on the weather. No one would have ever guessed as to the ever increasing rage building in his system. The largest of the men pulled himself together long enough to glance back up Spock, an evil grin on his face.

"So…you're telling me that I'm actually getting the chance to beat the living shit out of the half-breed freak they let parade around Starfleet?" The insult was meant to make him angry, to attempt to goad him into a confrontation. Spock would not allow this. He kept his face impassive, this was not the first time he had suffered insults such as these, and he had grown accustomed to them by now.

Jim however, had gone deadly still beside him, almost dangerously so. Like the calm before the storm as some humans would say.

"So, tell me _Spooock,_" the man drew his name out, making a joke of it, "I know enough about politics to know that your father is the Vulcan Ambassador?"

"This is correct, though it is not relevant..." Spock started to cut him off, but the man just continued speaking as if the Vulcan had never spoken.

"I bet your traitor mother lay awake in bed at night, just begging to be fucked by a real man instead of that Vulcan filth. I bet she..." The man never got a chance to finish his insults as both he and Jim launched themselves simultaneously at them. Spock's abhorrence to a violent confrontation lay long forgotten as a result of the insult against his mother.

The bar was suddenly in total chaos as limbs connected with bodies, and blood connected with the floor. Spock had easily taken down two of them in less than four point three seconds, and Jim had already almost incapacitated his own opponent.

Patrons scrambled quickly to get out of the way of the enraged Vulcan and his Captain as they slung the men all about the bar. The fourth man, the heavily tattooed one, hastily came to the conclusion that he was now outnumbered two-to-one (McCoy was busy shouting over the chaos, trying to get everyone to calm down) and made to make his escape.

"I'd run too, you bigoted mother fucker!" Jim yelled after him, clearly content to let the man run like the coward he was, but not Spock. An alien, yet somehow familiar rage had overtaken the half-Vulcan, and there was absolutely no way that he was going to let him get away. He would take him down. Make him pay for insulting his mother.

"Spock!" He vaguely heard Jim shout as the Vulcan took after the man.

The man looked over his shoulder at Jim's shout, and took in Spock's murderous gaze. It did not take him long to conclude what was about to happen.

Despite Jim's orders to stop, Spock was on the human in less than two point five seconds. Picking him up by his neck with one hand, he slammed the human full force against the nearest wall, his feet dangling off the ground. Both Dr. McCoy and Jim were now shouting at him, attempting to bring him out of the violent haze he found himself utterly lost in. The rest of the bar just watched in shocked silence. They had never before seen a Vulcan act the way Spock was acting, and now that they were getting to witness it first hand, the sight was terrifying.

Spock resisted the oh-so tempting urge to encircle his hand tighter around the man's throat and crush his windpipe, but he felt himself coming back to some semblance of reality as Jim's voice continued to sound relentlessly behind him. The green blood lust he had been seeing was slowly starting to fade back to normal.

Taking a deep breath, Spock closed his eyes to collect his control, to collect it, and dispense it throughout his entire being. He must control. Under no circumstances could he let this anger control him. _Take control Spock_! He told himself firmly.

Finally his body started obeying his mind and he slowly lowered the man back to the floor, unharmed. The man sputtered and coughed violently as he doubled over and grabbed at his neck where the Vulcan's fingers had once been. The man tried to escape yet again, but not before Spock reached out, grabbed at his collar and pulled him towards him, his face centimeters away.

"I intend to _allow_ you to leave here unharmed, but make no mistake, it would be in your best interest for us not to meet again," Spock threatened him in a low whisper, so only the man could hear it. The human nodded dumbly, and Spock instantly released him. He stumbled back on himself and scrambled to break free from the building, tripping twice before actually making it out of the door.

The bar remained silent for another good minute; so silent you could hear a pen drop. Finally, Spock turned back to his captain and Dr. McCoy, who were both shooting him worried glances. Jim appeared as if he wanted to say something, but he never voiced it. It was the southern drawl of the doctor that finally broke through the silence.

"Spock…you okay?" Dr. McCoy questioned in that medically concerned tone that all Doctors possessed.

Spock peered up at him. _No, no I am not okay, right now, I am ashamed, I have lost control…again. _Spock chastised himself. His behavior had been unacceptable, and would definitely require an extensive amount of meditation to rectify.

"Spock?" It was Jim this time, obviously becoming more concerned at his continued silence. The gentle sound of his voice helped tremendously to quell the raging inferno which had possessed him not minutes ago. It seemed as if Jim had that effect on him more and more lately.

"I assure you Captain, Doctor, all is well." He did not wish to elaborate on his condition right now, not in front of all these people. Dr. McCoy did not look convinced as he gazed at Spock's hands. Curious, Spock peered down to see what had captured the Doctor's attention and realized that his hands were balled up into fists, his green-tinged skin white with tension.

Uncurling his fists proved to be a challenge, but he managed it nonetheless and turned to survey the damages he had dealt during the altercation. There were a few broken tables and chairs, and quite a bit of broken glass littered the floor, but that was it. Spock turned his attention to the bartender who was looking tentatively at him.

"I do apologize for making a scene in your place of business, if you will permit me to, I would be more than willing to pay for any damages, you can contact me through Starfleet's directory. I would also recommend you call the local authorities and relay to them what has happened," Spock stated simply and with a slight nod he turned and exited the building, the bystanders hastily making way for him.

He tried to make his escape swiftly, but it was not long before Jim and Dr. McCoy had exited from the building, and were trailing right behind him.

Jim called out to him. "Hey! Hey Spock, where are you going! Hey wait!" he yelled after him desperately. Spock increased his speed. He did not wish Jim to see him like this. It was repulsing.

"Dammit, you pointy-eared bastard, just wait a second; we need to talk about this!" Dr. McCoy joined in.

Reluctantly, Spock halted, causing both his comrades to almost run into him. Slowly he turned and sent them a very rare, almost regretful look. Jim stepped closer to him, but Spock shot out his hand, motioning for him to stop. Jim winced at the gesture.

"Spock, you have _nothing_ to be ashamed of, those guys were real assholes, hell I WANTED to give them a real kick in the balls, same as you!" Jim tried reasoning.

"I am not ashamed Captain, for that would be a human emotion."

Dr. McCoy snorted, "Yeah, and you definitely don't have any of those lying around…"

"Bones," Jim warned his friend, his eyes never leaving Spock's.

"Doctor, I would recommend that you take yourself to the nearest medical facility and attain treatment for your injuries, meanwhile, I shall take me leave," Spock said dismissively as he turned from them.

"Spock, wait a damn second!" Jim protested, clearly growing irritated with his avoidance.

"I cannot Captain, I must return to my quarters, I have things I need to attend to." Spock said, almost desperately, imploring Jim to understand the shame he was feeling.

Jim appeared slightly hurt at first by the dismissal, but he nodded slowly in understanding.

"Okay Spock, comm me if you need anything, I guess I'll take Bones to fix his face."

"Hey! I'm quite able to fix my own face thank you very much!" the doctor protested.

"Good night, Captain," he bid to Jim before he nodded to Dr. McCoy, "Doctor." He then turned to leave.

"Hey Spock?" Doctor McCoy questioned, his voice slightly muffled from the fractured, bloody nose. Spock halted, turned, and inclined his head, but the doctor remained silent. Wishing the man would just come out and say whatever it was he wanted to say, Spock shifted his feet impatiently, and chastised himself immediately. More unnecessary emotion.

"Thanks, I mean…thank you," Dr. McCoy said meekly, but with the utmost sincerity.

"For what Doctor?"

Dr. McCoy sighed at being asked to elaborate. "For sticking up for me. I know I don't say it much, but you're a good friend, Spock," he complimented him quietly, a slight blush to his human cheeks. The Vulcan knew it took every ounce of courage just too even think of saying something like that to him, and he stood speechless for three point six seconds before responding.

"I did the logical thing, Doctor, if they had continued their attack upon you, your injuries would be greater than they are at present, and Starfleet cannot afford to lose one of its Chief Medical Officers at this point in time." Spock responded plainly.

Dr. McCoy rolled his eyes. "Whatever floats your boat, Spock," he retorted sourly. Instead of supplying his usual logical banter with the Doctor, Spock simply nodded to the two gentlemen and quickly set off towards home, unaware of the predatory eyes following his every step.

**A.N. Please Please Please Review! It's like food for my soul when you guys leave your thoughts! Let me know what you think?! I should have an update within the upcoming week! **


	2. When the Bow Breaks

**A.N: So I got this chapter up a little quicker than I thought I would. Thanks for those that reviewed! I hope ya'll enjoy this second chapter, oh and I do have a playlist for this fic on 8tracks. /missbamf/k-s-star-trek-carry-your-world if you would like to listen! Theres currently two playlists for this story, and the songs really helped inspire a lot of what I wanted this story to tell. **

**Aside from some swearing...nothing graphic to warn against!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek, and I don't own Queen of the Damned either, which is where I got the bar name from. I just think it sounds cool.**

Chapter Two:

When the Bow Breaks

Kirk groaned disjointedly as the door chime to his Starfleet issued apartment continued to ring incessantly. Beyond annoyed, he spared a half-lidded glance at his chronometer.

"Just who the hell is ringin' my door at five in the fucking morning!?" He grumbled lethargically in annoyance. Sporting a moderate headache from his late night drinking, the last thing he wanted to do was drag his ass out of bed at the crack of dawn. This was shore leave dammit! But whoever was ringing his door was being damn persistent and obviously had no intentions of letting up anytime soon.

With a heavy sigh, Kirk clumsily stumbled out of bed, double checked himself to make sure he was at least half-way decent for whoever the fuck, and made his way to the door. He was half-way there when he stubbed his pinky toe on the couch at exactly the same time the door decided to chime again.

"OW! MOTHER _FU_—! HOLD ON A DAMN SECOND!" He yelled heatedly as he cradled his foot in his hand, squeezing his pinky toe; which was now throbbing in pain. Damn why did that have to hurt so much?

"Kirk? Are you in there? Answer this door now!" Uhura's frantic voice sounded loudly from the other side. Kirk's expression of pain quickly escalated into one of surprise. _Uhura? What the hell was she doing here? _

"Uhura?" he asked stupidly as he quickly made his way to the door. Whoever he had been expecting, it wasn't her. He placed his hand in the specified hand plate and watched as the door slid open to a reveal his very disheveled looking Communications Officer. She was still in her PJ's, and her eyes were red rimmed and blood shot. If he didn't know any better, he'd bet fifty credits that she'd been up the entire night worrying about something. Or rather…about someone.

"Uhura? What the hell is—," he began, but was interrupted as she pushed passed him and barreled through the door, her eyes searching every inch of his room desperately. _Well, this isn't weird or anything. _

"Is he here Kirk? Did he stay here last night?" she pleaded frantically as she rounded back to face him. He stared at her wide-eyed, all traces of sleep disappearing from his face instantly at the sheer panic in her voice.

"Who?" he asked, a sinking feeling beginning to take root in his stomach. He knew exactly who she was referring to.

"Spock! Is he here?" She asked again, her eyes beginning to tear up at the revelation that she would not find him here.

"No Uhura, he's not, he told me and Bones that he was going straight home last night after…" Kirk suddenly narrowed his eyes, "wait a minute…you guys are broken up I thought?" He asked before he could stop himself as he wondered why Spock would even still be going to Uhura's.

"Thank you for that clarification _Captain." _She spat looked at her sheepishly as she continued, "but we haven't had a chance to get separate quarters yet. The application is still being processed because—ugggh that's not what I'm here about!" She exasperated, the anxiety from before returning full force.

_Oh right, Spock was missing—Spock was missing!_

Kirk took a moment to process that.

"Wait…so you're telling me he never came home last night?" Just saying the sentence aloud sent a chill down Kirk's spine.

"No he never came home! I tried to get a hold of him on his communicator, but he never answered. Spock _always_ lets me know if he's going to be late, which isn't that often, you know how damn punctual he is Kirk, and I know that we aren't involved or anything anymore, so really he doesn't _have_ to let me know these things…but he would have let me know! He wouldn't blow me off like that! I was…I was hoping that maybe you and Dr. McCoy had just gotten up to more fun than he's used to, you know?" The way she stated it implied that there was a double meaning, but Kirk didn't linger on it, he was still having a mild panic attack at the revelation that Spock was missing.

"I had hoped that maybe…he just forgot to comm me. That he just crashed here."

There was the double meaning again, like there was something he should know.

She suddenly looked at him accusingly, her eyes narrowed, "I tried _comming_ you too, but you never answered. What kind of Captain doesn't answer their damn communicator!" She hissed in that famous icy tone of hers. He had to give Spock props for being able to handle it.

He glanced guiltily at her as he thought about his communicator which was currently resting—on silent—next to his bed. He had only turned the damn thing down during the night so no one would disturb him. Here lately he'd been getting calls from various random people at what seem like all ungodly hours of the night. And some of those calls were just fucking weird. That was the downside to being famous. Amongst your many fans, there were always—_those people._

He probably shouldn't have done that, turned the thing on silent, but _technically_ he wasn't on duty as of yet, and he didn't expect anything important to rouse him in the middle of the night. At least nothing he felt like dealing with. Looking into Uhura's vexing eyes now; he realized what a grave mistake that had been.

Running his fingers through his messy, slept in hair, Kirk sighed as the panic began to grab at him again. _Where the hell could Spock be if he wasn't with Uhura?_

The thought had no sooner left his brain when a pang of fear hit him square in the chest. Perhaps…but no, surely those fuckers at the bar last night wouldn't have been able to do anything…at least not that quick. _However, there was that one that Spock let go, the one with the tattoos…_Kirk reminded himself as he pondered back to the terrified man in the Vulcan's inescapable grasp. Who's to say the guy didn't try to exact revenge? Spock had let him go hadn't he?

Kirk cursed under his breath at his stupidity. He should have insisted that Spock not walk home alone lest something like that did happen. Vulcans might be far superior in strength than humans, but that didn't make them invincible, especially if said attacker had a phaser on them…set to kill.

"What is it Kirk, you're not telling me something." Uhura questioned warily as she studied the frown on his face. Taking a deep breath, he decided to spill the beans.

"Well you know last night we took Spock to that bar…_The Admiral's Arms_? The one just a few blocks from here?"

Uhura nodded impatiently, she obviously already knew that much. Hell the whole reason they'd took him was because he'd been dumped by her to begin with! But he didn't voice this fact.

"And anyways, me and Bones…well…it's safe to say we both got a little buzzed—,"

"I'm sure that's an understatement Captain." She scowled. Kirk gave a weak laugh.

"Bones was way worse than I was though, and Spock? Well you'd be proud of the guy…didn't touch an ounce of alcohol." _Not that it'd do anything._

"The point already!" Uhura yelled through clenched teeth, impatient at his continued attempts to _beat around the bush_.

"Okay! Okay! Keep your panties on!" Sighing once more, he reiterated last night's events to her. Uhura's face turned rueful with each passing word. She knew just as well as him exactly how Spock could be when he lost control of his emotions…she'd seen it firsthand. Hell, he had _experienced_ it firsthand! Kirk repressed a shudder at the memory of how angry Spock looked last night as he held that man by the throat. Pure rage…that's what he'd seen on his friends usually impassive face.

"We tried to get him to talk to us about it, but he was very adamant on getting back to his quarters."

"To meditate." Uhura supplied as she nodded to herself.

"Meditate?" He asked, perplexed. While he considered Spock his best friend, and here lately, slightly more than that (not that he'd ever admit that to Spock lest his friendship come to a crashing end) there was still quite a bit he didn't know about the Vulcan's day-to-day routine. It wasn't something Spock exactly advertised. For some reason though, he felt slightly ashamed at _not_ knowing Spock's routine…like he should have made the effort to know it. And why? What did it have to do with him?

"It's something Vulcans do as a means to keep their emotions under control. Something they require. If…if Spock acted as you said he did, then it doesn't surprise me that he would want to meditate on it immediately, to regain his control." She stated remorsefully. Kirk nodded to her in understanding before returning to his story.

"Like I said, we tried to get him to stay with us a little longer…I didn't like that look in his eyes…you know…that lost,_ I'm gonna go lock myself in the bathroom and not come out_ look? But he left anyways." Kirk finished regretfully.

"Something happened to him." She said quietly, almost fearfully. Kirk tried to give her a reassuring look, but he was failing miserably. He couldn't reassure somebody when he wasn't reassured himself.

"Look we don't know that okay?"

"But you said he let one of those guys go! What if that guy caught up to him? He could be hurt Kirk!" She shrieked, her face going deathly pale. Of course, Kirk had already considered that moments ago, but he wouldn't admit it. That was one of the many perks of being Captain…you learned how to keep people calm despite the utter shit storm brewing within you.

"Even if he did Uhura, Spock is way more than capable of taking care of himself. The guy wouldn't have lasted half a second! Look what he did to Kahn?" He said with conviction, but the words were empty. His Communication's Officer wasn't buying into it.

"I don't care what he's _capable_ of handling Jim! Something happened to him! I can feel it!" She screamed irately. Kirk found himself flinching away from the enraged woman. Just the fact that she had resorted to the use of his first name was enough to make him do so.

"Okay…it's—alright, here's what were going to do…" He took a moment to collect himself, to get into Captain-mode and _not_ keep imagining his First Officer lying dead in a ditch somewhere. Those kinds of thoughts weren't doing him any favors. Uhura was looking to him for answers. To lead her in the right direction. Hell _he_ was looking to himself to lead him in the right direction!

"Spock's a Starfleet Officer, so we'll handle this through them. They'll have access to surveillance holcams, cams' we can use to discern what happened to him on his way home." He stated as he looked at her pointedly. This seemed to cheer her up a bit as she began nodding hastily in agreement. Uhura would know the path that Spock would've taken so she would know exactly where to start searching.

"Yes. Yes, you're right; surely we'll have an answer from those." She said more to herself, as if trying to convince herself that everything would be solved once they saw that footage. Kirk didn't miss the worry that remained in her eyes, and it made him reach out to her and squeeze her hand gently, reassuringly.

"Don't worry Uhura, I bet he's perfectly fine, I'm sure he has a perfectly logical explanation for not coming home." Uhura squeezed his hand warmly in return.

"I know we're not together anymore, but I still care about him you know? I still worry about him." She voiced softly. _Damn, and every break up I've ever been in resulted in broken objects, a lot of swearing, and always a handprint on the cheek,_ Kirk couldn't help thinking to himself.

Standing up, he explained that he was just going to change out of his PJ's and then they would leave. He gazed at her a moment, studying her attire.

"You know…I've got some extra clothes here…women's clothes and all," he coughed uneasily as she narrowed her eyes. He felt like elaborating. "You know, that way you wouldn't have to show up at Starfleet Headquarters in plaid pajamas and a—_pardon the expression—_pretty revealing halter top." He offered, trying to dispel the awkwardness. Uhura looked down and examined herself, silently agreeing.

"I guess you're right, wouldn't be very professional." She agreed. Though, once dressed, he thought maybe the pajamas would've been more professional after all if the current skirt and low cut shirt was anything to go by.

It wasn't twenty minutes later that Kirk and Uhura were making their way hastily up the steps and into Starfleet Headquarters main lobby. Due to the fact that it was now 5:30AM, and Saturday no less, the lobby was very scarce. Aside from the small security detail stationed here and there, the only other soul in existence was a very well-kept female manning the lobby's main desk. Kirk and Uhura both strode eagerly across the humongous Starfleet insignia that painted the floor, and right up to her desk.

The woman, who had been deeply engrossed in something on her PADD that looked a lot like the e version of a magazine, reluctantly glared up at them.

"Can I help you?" She asked begrudgingly, obviously not recognizing their rank due to their civilian clothing…Especially Uhura's _civilian _clothing. On any other day, Kirk might have flirted with her, but with Spock missing, it was the last thing on his mind.

"Yes…" Kirk glanced at her red security uniform to determine her rank, "Ensign you can, I'm Captain James T. Kirk of the U.S.S. Enterprise, serial number SC937-0176CEC." He stated studiously and indicated to Uhura. "This is my Communications Officer, Lieutenant Uhura. I'd like you to direct us to the Logistics Department."

The young woman squinted her eyes to get a better look at him, and a few seconds later a look of realization graced her features. She obviously recognized him from the media no doubt. Thoroughly embarrassed by her prior tone, she straightened up with a blush. He didn't fail to notice how she pointedly continued to ignore Uhura's presence.

"Yes sir—I'm sorry—yes Captain. Take the turbolift to the eleventh floor; they'll be able to accommodate you there." She informed them politely and with a flirtatious smile aimed directly at him. _Not today sweetheart, and probably not ever. _

"Thanks."

He turned to Uhura and motioned for her to follow him as they proceeded over to the turbolift. They were just about to step inside when a loud, all-too-familiar country accent sounded through the air behind them.

"Jim! Uhura! I've been lookin' all over for you two!" Bones shouted as he ran over to them and put his hands on his thighs in an exaggerated attempt to catch his breath. His nose had been fixed, thanks to the late night visit to Starfleet's medbay, but that didn't prevent the dark purple bruising that now lined the man's eyes. Kirk heard Uhura gasp lightly at the sight. Bones didn't fail to notice.

"Oh don't worry yourself Lieutenant, I'll live."

"Well you can't have looked very long, we only just left my apartment. Uhura came and got me…she says Spock is missing Bones. Says he never came home last night, we were just—," Kirk had begun to fill him in on the details, but was silenced by the grim expression on his friend's face. He knew that look, and it never did bode good news. He was vaguely aware of Uhura making a grab for his hand from beside him.

"Jim…look maybe you oughta come with me, I don't wanna do this here." He suggested quietly as he glanced around the all too quiet lobby, particularly the security detail which were no doubt listening in on the action, eager for gossip material. Impatience however, got the best of him. Whatever news his friend had on Spock, he wanted to hear it now, and apparently so did Uhura.

"Where's Spock Dr. McCoy? What's going on?" Uhura snapped at him. Bones' expression darkened at her inquiry, and Kirk felt his heart stop as he immediately assumed the worst.

"Wait, he's not…he's can't be…de—," he began terribly, but Bones hastily cut him off.

"What? Christ no Jim! He's not dead! But at the way things are lookin', he might as well be. I swear that green blooded hobgoblin has really gone and done it now."

"Len, what're you talking about? Is he Okay?" Uhura pleaded desperately. Bones sighed heavily, obviously not wanting to divulge exactly what he was about to divulge regarding his Vulcan friend.

"Not here. Get in the turbolift." He ordered, leaving no room for protest as he ushered them all in the lift. Kirk watched suspiciously as he hit the button for Sublevel. At the revelation of their destination, Kirk immediately swung around and faced Bones, eyes wide with disbelief. Beside him, Uhura looked just as confused, maybe even a little apprehensive.

"Bones…why the HELL are we going to the detainment area?" He had expected the medbay, or maybe even one of Starfleet's science labs, but he had _not_ expected the criminal holding area. Not in a thousand years.

"That's where they're keeping Spock, Jim." He answered remorsefully, not wanting to meet Kirk's eyes.

"What?! What the hell are you talking about _keeping Spock_? The fuck for!?" he shouted as the turbolift came to a halt and the doors slid open to reveal standard issue grey and red walls, and a long, plain hallway which led in either direction and was littered with several small holding cells; which were no doubt reinforced with electromagnetic force fields. Errantly he wondered why his ship wasn't equipped with force-field barriers.

Bones rounded on him, a look of warning in his eyes.

"Keep your voice down Jim! God knows who's listening down here."

It took all of Kirk's self control to not continue shouting at his Chief Medical Officer. He spared an uneasy glance at Uhura who looked like she wanted to scream at the Doctor for answers as well, but had thought better of it.

Bones quickly scanned both hallways up and down before turning his attention back to him to explain. "I was on my way to the medbay again late last night to fix myself up with some stronger hyposprays for this damn nose. I couldn't sleep with the pain. I was just about to grab myself a ride in the turbolift when I saw them bring Spock in…and Jim…they had him in restraints." Bones ran his hand through his hair as he looked gravely at Kirk, who had placed his hands on his temple, the headache from earlier this morning coming back full force as he tried to piece together what Bones had just relayed to him.

"Restraints?! Why? What's going o—I want to see him." Kirk stated furiously while Uhura's eyes had gone wide with disbelief. Bones grabbed Kirk's arm and forced him off to the far side of the hallway so that Uhura could not hear him.

"Jim, you've got to get her out of here, the less people to see him in this state, the better, and you know that's how he'd want it." He reasoned, and Kirk knew he was right. If Spock had been arrested for whatever the fuck reason, he wouldn't want the rest of the bridge crew—ex or not—to see him in handcuffs like a criminal. His friend would never admit to that, but Kirk knew him well by now. He knew him very well.

Taking a deep breath and trying to grow a pair, Kirk turned to Uhura who looked murderous, her hands on the side of her hips expectantly.

"Uhura, I'm gonna ask you to go home, and I promise I'll contact you with more information as I get it." He requested politely, knowing the attempt would be in vain.

"Like hell I'm going anywhere James Kirk, now take me to Spock. I want to see Spock!" She lashed out, making both Kirk and Bones wince at the harsh demand in her voice. Kirk really didn't want to do it, but he had no other choice…he was going to have to pull rank.

"Lieutenant, that's and order. Go home. I will brief you later." He ordered firmly, hating himself with every word. For a brief second, he almost thought she would start arguing with him again, but instead she just glared, a tangible fury in her eyes. She looked between both the men before she settled her eyes on Kirk where they darkened considerably and nodded once.

"_Captain_." She bit out through clenched teeth before spinning around and exiting through the turbolift. Kirk wasted no time as he rounded back on Bones.

"Okay Bones, lay it to me straight, why did they arrest Spock?"

"I really don't know Jim…I'm still trying to find out just what the hell is going on myself. All I know is that I saw Spock in restraints and I asked them what he'd done to deserve it." He exclaimed, clearly annoyed at today's turn of events.

"And that wasn't even the worst part Jim…" Bones continued, a weary grimace on his face. "I tried to get his attention. You know…Spock's? But it was like he wasn't even aware of me, and he had this…this look on his face, this blank soul-less look." Bones' tone was haunted.

"Spock is Vulcan Bones, they tend to all have that look." Kirk replied, hoping desperately that his friend had just mistaken Spock's expression. Bones shook his head vigorously, which shattered that hope.

"You don't understand Jim, I know Spock's look, hell I'm the goddamn reason for well over half of them! And this was _not _one of them. His eyes were completely vacant, like a damned hollowed shell, even by Vulcan standards!" Bones argued, fear in his eyes. Obviously the memory still haunted him, and that in itself unsettled Kirk as he imagined an expression like that on his friend. It made him feel cold inside.

"Ah, Doctor McCoy, I was told you'd be making your way down here by an associate of mine, and this must be Captain Kirk, it _is_ a pleasure." A spritely, but authoritative voice sounded from down the hallway as it made its way towards them. Kirk and Bones both peered up and around at the same time to witness a short, robust sort of man decked out in an obscenely bright colored suit striding towards them. The big, fake ass smile plastered on his face already told Kirk that he didn't like him.

"I suspect you've come to inquire about your First Officer? The Vulcan?" He asked as cheerily as if he were asking them to afternoon tea. Kirk wasted no time. _His name is Spock you fuck face, _he thought angrily to himself, but did his best to restrain said anger.

"Yea we sure the hell have, first of all, I'd like to know what Commander Spock has done to warrant an arrest?" Kirk could barely contain his growing irritation for this man he'd just met. There was something about him, a certain…_arrogance_ he displayed that irked the young captain.

"Yes, yes of course. Mr. Spock was arrested at 0224 hours this morning for the murder of civilian Anton Mitchells." He answered simply. Both men became completely wide-eyed before sharing a look of utter disbelief at the revelation. However, it was Kirk who responded with all the instinct and tenacity his aged graced him with.

"Bullshit!" He declared firmly. There was absolutely _no way_ Spock killed anyone. That…that just wasn't possible. The man raised his eyebrows at his choice of words, clearly taken aback by his forwardness.

"The evidence against Mr. Spock is quite compelling I assure you."

"Evidence!?" Kirk sputtered, but was cut off by Bones.

"Now just a wait a damn minute here, who the hell are you?" He questioned suspiciously. The man blinked stupidly at him before realizing that he had not indeed introduced himself yet.

"Oh good gracious! How rude of me! I'm Admiral Bradley Covington." The admiral supplied proudly, with all the grace and ego of a teenager.

"Admiral?" Bones sputtered in disbelief before he could stop himself. Kirk didn't blame him; the last thing he expected this man to be was an admiral. For one thing, admirals in the Fleet were very, _very _meticulous about being in their uniforms while on duty; not to mention, Kirk had never heard the name Covington before. He quickly searched his brain for any kind of reference to the name and found none. Narrowing his ice blue eyes, he peered at the supposed _admiral_ suspiciously. After the shit storm with Marcus? You couldn't _be_ more cautious these days.

"How come I've never heard of you before now? I'm pretty good with the names of my superior officers, and yours doesn't ring any bells." He accused thinly. A brief flash of annoyance played in Covington's eyes before he masked it with a broad smile.

"It doesn't surprise me Captain Kirk, I've only just recently been promoted from Commodore to Admiral a few weeks ago. Due to the recent—how should I word this—_shortages—_of high ranking officers caused from the events you two know all too well about—,"

Kirk and Bones spared a quick, uneasy glance with one another.

"Starfleet has had to make some hasty promotions in a short amount of time. Lucky for me really." Convington explained without an ounce of remorse for the people who had died to give those open spots.

Kirk felt his ears redden with fury. Admiral Pike was one of those _shortages_ as Convington had so delicately put it. A man who Kirk had considered the closest thing to a father he had ever had, and this…this _Covington _dickplayed him out to be nothing more than a pawn on a chess board.

"Admiral Covington, sir." A composed, professional voice sounded from down the hall way. All three men looked over to observe a very young, red-shirted security officer walking purposefully towards them.

"Lt. Beal, report." The admiral ordered, his tone drastically changing into one of authority much more dignified to that of an admiral.

"Yes sir, you ordered that I come to you when the prisoner became coherent."

Kirk's temper flared at the use of the word _prisoner_ to describe Spock. Last time he checked, you were innocent until proven guilty, even in Starfleet's justice system.

"Lieutenant, you will refer to Mr. Spock as _Commander _Spock. He has not been charged with any crime, and he is still your superior officer. Show some respect." Kirk demanded angrily. Lt. Beal turned to Kirk and regarded him with hostile eyes. However, he obviously had recognized Kirk from the media because he nodded curtly and responded.

"Yes sir, my apologies Captain. _Commander _Spock is ready for questioning admiral." Kirk didn't miss the sarcasm dripping in the Lieutenant's voice. Not many men his own age readily liked Kirk unless they had been a part of his crew. His thoughts took him back to the Security Officer he had once referred to as '_Cupcake. _Now the man—whose name was Hendorff—looked up to Kirk with respect and honor. However, to the rest of the Fleet, becoming a Starfleet Captain at the tender age of twenty-five tended to spark jealousy in most who aspired to reach the same goals. This guy was no exception.

Admiral Covington, ignoring the tense exchange between the two men, dismissed the Lieutenant and turned back to Kirk and Bones. "I regret that I must excuse myself gentlemen. Pertinent matters to attend to." He stated with ease as he began to leave. _Oh no you don't._

"Admiral Covington, we want to see Spock." Kirk stated firmly, leaving no room for argument. The admiral chuckled lightly, only adding to Kirk's anger.

"I'm afraid that would be most inappropriate Captain, now if you'll ex—," Kirk felt his hands trembling as his barely controlled anger threatened to boil out of him in the form of a corporeal beating, but Bones silenced him.

"I'm sure that due to the fact that you were so recently promoted _admiral,_ you haven't had the time to familiarize yourself with all of Starfleet's protocols regarding suspects in a crime…so I'll help you out. Commander Spock hasn't been proven guilty of anything yet, which still makes him First Officer of the Enterprise, which just _so happens_ to be Captained by James Kirk here," Bones jerked his head to Kirk who smirked.

"Yeah…it's my ship." he added unhelpfully. Bones continued on as if he hadn't spoken.

"Now, as Spock's Captain, he reserves the right to question him himself in addition to being present during any kind of said questioning." He finished with an air of satisfaction. Kirk couldn't help but smile at his friend's intelligent use of quoting regulation. Spock would have been proud.

Convington gaped at Bones, clearly dumbstruck. His befuddled expression however, quickly changed into one of fury. Fury at having been put in his place, and having to be told protocol by a subordinate officer. Kirk looked at Bones, resisting the urge to kiss him. He was perfectly fine just punching this asshole in the face and being done with it, but here Bones was, using the only good weapon in this fight…protocol. _Gets them every time, _he chided to himself.

"Well…I stand corrected Dr. McCoy…please gentlemen, follow me." Covington invited begrudgingly as he glared at the two men before stalking off in the other direction, a noticeable speed in his step. They both followed after him and moments later, Bones turned and winked at Kirk, obviously smug with himself.

"Where would I be without you Bones?" Kirk asked playfully.

"Probably still back there in the hallway, looking like a sad, kicked puppy." His friend answered with sarcastically.

"_No, I'd probably be grabbing a chair next to Spock for striking a superior officer…" _Kirk whispered none-too-quietly, causing the admiral to cock his head around towards them.

"What was that captain?" He asked loudly. Bones rolled his eyes.

"Oh nothing! I was just mentioning to the good Doctor here how lovely the décor is down here."

((oOo))

After passing what seemed like endless rows of cells all containing varying inhabitants, the admiral finally halted outside of one in particular. Kirk held his breath as he and Bones came to stand beside Convington. Surprise engulfed him as they all three stood staring into an empty cell. Apparently the admiral was just as—_if not more_ surprised as they were—because he was suddenly cursing and stalking off to the nearest security officer he could find.

"Dammit—gave no such order—I swear when—," was all Kirk could make out as the irate admiral happened across Lt. Beal, who had been walking innocently just around the corner.

"Where is the Vulcan?" He raged, spitting out the word _Vulcan_ like it was a disease. Kirk swelled with anger again at the admiral's obvious disrespect towards Spock, but he kept his mouth shut. It wouldn't help him see his friend any faster. And right now he couldn't quell the sudden, intense need to just see his friend's face. To know he was okay. It was driving him crazy—this not knowing business.

Lieutenant Beal winced at the fury in Convington's voice, but answered him nevertheless.

"I…I had him removed to the Interrogation Room sir. I…I was trying to save you time." He timidly justified. _See. This is where you and I differ. I would never suck that much ass._ Kirk thought smugly.

"I gave no such order Lieutenant! I specifically wanted a full security detail present at any time that Vulcan was to be moved! Do you have any idea as to the strength a Vulcan possesses? He could have easily overtaken you and your pathetic two-man detail!" The admiral spat in surprising fury. For someone who was so jubilant minutes before, it didn't take much to anger him.

"Admiral, I really think you're going overboard here…Spock isn't dangerous!" Kirk argued in a humorous tone, almost going so far as to laugh at what the admiral was actually suggesting. The very conceived thought of it was baffling to Kirk. Convington craned his neck to glare at him.

"That remains to be seen Captain Kirk."

Kirk and Bones glanced at each other uneasily, the humor slipping off his face instantly.

"Lieutenant, take us to the Interrogation Room." He ordered lazily as he waved off in the forward direction like he was waving a servant. Bael nodded and led the way. "I gather he wasn't any trouble?" Covington inquired casually as they made their way through the halls, yet again.

"No sir, he went very quietly, didn't give us an ounce of trouble."

"Of course he didn't! He's a Vulcan for cryin' out loud!" Bones exclaimed, thoroughly annoyed.

"_Half-Vulcan_ Dr. McCoy, let's not exaggerate." Covington rebutted as if he were scolding a child. Kirk visibly bristled.

Finally they came to a stop outside of what must have been the Interrogation Room. Two security officers stood guard on either side of the door and quickly granted them access as they recognized the admiral.

Kirk mentally prepared himself as he and Bones finally entered the small room and let out a sizable breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding as he took in the sight of his friend. It was strange, the effect that seeing him—unharmed—had on him. The emotions that it stirred.

Spock was seated at a metal table, which was firmly attached to the floor. His hands were bound by crude metal cuffs that were then chained to the table, preventing him from moving his arms at all. Kirk didn't know why, but it deeply bothered him to see his First Officer being handled in such a way.

Yet, despite all this…his First Officer was the complete epitome of calm. Kirk studied Spock's face, searching for any sign of worry, or anxiety at his predicament, but he found none. _Did you expect to? _He asked himself stupidly. He quickly scanned the Vulcan over for any injuries that he might've missed, and upon finding none, his eyes traveled back to Spock's bound hands. His eyes narrowed.

"Are those really necessary?" He spat out in disgust. He really didn't like seeing Spock in those handcuffs. It just didn't bode well with him. The two just didn't go together.

"You may have the right to be here Captain, but the decisions regarding restraining a prisoner of the Fleet lie with me, the _ranking_ officer." Covington declared icily. Kirk rolled his eyes and focused in on his First Officer who, for the entirety of the time they'd been in the room, had remained solely focused on some invisible target on the far side of the wall across from him. Kirk glanced at Bones whose eyes were seeping with the worry he was himself experiencing.

"Hey Spock? You…you okay?" Kirk inquired softly, edging closer to his friend. At first he thought he wouldn't get a reply, but it wasn't a few seconds later that Spock inclined his head at him in awareness.

"Captain…" He acknowledged quietly, and Kirk was disturbed at the far-away look in his eyes…like he was trying to focus in on something but wasn't successful. The captain found it slightly unnerving and resisted the compelling urge to reach out and stroke the Vulcan's cheek in reassurance

—_Whoah…where the hell did that come from? _He thought, shocked at his own inner impules.

"Yeah Spock, it's me Jim, Bones is here too." He answered gently and nodded over to Bones who was still regarding the Vulcan anxiously.

"Hey Spock, you've really gotten yourself in a pickle this time haven't you?" Bones pointed out sarcastically, obviously urging the Vulcan to come back with some counter argument at his illogical use of the word _pickle._ At least then they would know that Spock was not at all worried about his , Spock's reply was not what he expected.

"Indeed Doctor, the situation is grave."

Kirk felt a cold sensation settle into the pit of his stomach at the resigned look of defeat taking over Spock's facial expressions, something that rarely happened. He had only had that look once before, and it was on the Bridge of the Enterprise after he'd choked the shit out of him.

"I hope you realize the severity of the evidence against you Commander. The surveillance footage that was captured at the scene of the crime is extremely incriminating." Covington emphasized rudely as he glared at Spock. Immediately Kirk found himself waving the admiral down in exasperation. It wasn't a very smart thing to do to your superior officer, but he couldn't take the man anymore.

"Look. I'd really appreciate it if you'd _allow_ me a few moments with my First Officer here. I'd like to ask him some of my own questions, as is my right as his captain." Kirk snapped, never taking his eyes off of Spock. He felt more than saw the smile on Convington's pudgy face.

"As you wish _Captain_ Kirk, however, I won't be leaving this room. So you'll have to make peace with that." He dictated as he made to stand in the far corner, his arms folded across his chest as he silently observed the trio. Kirk spared him a hard glare before settling back on Spock.

"Spock…what happened?"

"To which instance do you refer captain?" Kirk winced at his continued use of his title, and the detachment in his tone which was nothing like the somewhat mirthful one he'd come to associate with Spock He highly doubted he'd get a _"Jim"_ out of him in front of an admiral though. Spock was all about respecting protocol in front of the superiors, and in this instance…it was probably for the best.

"Well how about we start with what happened last night after you left the bar?" Bones chimed in as if this were common sense.

"Logical Doctor." Spock pointed out.

"Uh…thanks?" he answered before Spock continued.

"Last night after I departed from your company gentlemen, I took the most logical and efficient route back to my quarters to begin meditation immediately. I remember twelve point three minutes of that walk perfectly." He stated with that Spockian confidence, but his eyes became conflicted as he continued. "Yet, beyond that…I am finding it most difficult to recall anything at all." The troubled Vulcan admitted, his eyebrows pursed together in puzzlement.

If Kirk was uneasy before, it was nothing compared to the nervousness he felt now as Spock retold his series of events. He could always count on his First Officer to be confident and self-assured in the face of anything. The fact that he wasn't…it was disturbing to say the least.

"Spock, what do you mean you only remember twelve point three minutes? What…what does that mean exactly?" Kirk asked anxiously. Spock stared intensely at him…as if the answer should be obvious.

"We left the bar at approximately 2215 hours last night." Spock pointed out.

"Yeah…yeah I'd say it was about fifteen after ten." Bones agreed, using standard time instead of the military.

"I was not asking for a confirmation Doctor McCoy, I was merely stating that that was the time we departed the bar."

Bones scowled, but Spock ignored him.

"I recall exactly twelve point three minutes of my walk home before my memory…fails me." He stated almost shamefully…almost. But Kirk knew better. To Spock it was a fucking catastrophe to not remember something in perfect detail.

"Starfleet has informed me that I was picked up somewhere around the vicinity of 2:00 AM."

Kirk picked up on the fact that he had switched to using standard time, probably for Bones' sake, who hated using military time, though why he cared about what Bones preferred was beyond him.

Spock glanced at Kirk, "I apologize that I cannot give an exact approximation captain, as I do not recall being picked up."

Kirk waved him down as he became more and more disturbed by this retelling of events. "It's fine Spock, just continue."

"Yes captain. I do not remember becoming attentive again until approximately 4:12 AM, at which time I had already been brought to Starfleet's detainment area and transported down to a holding cell. At 4:26 AM, I was briefed by Admiral Covington as to the nature of the charges against me."

"What, that you actually _murdered_ this—this Anton Mitchell?!" Kirk yelled angrily, unable to stop himself. He didn't mean to get angry with Spock, but his whole _Vulcan _attitude towards this situation was starting to get under his skin.

"Precisely captain."

"AHH YOU SEE? HE ADMITS IT!" Covington roared as he rushed forward and stuck his finger right in Spock's face. His close proximity to the Vulcan, especially with the threatening stance, inflamed Kirk with anger and he resisted a primal urge to yank the fucker back away from Spock. He didn't want him anywhere near his Vulcan. Kirk groaned with annoyance and curled his hands in his hair, pulling anxiously at the dirty blond strands that had yet to be combed down in his haste to leave the apartment this morning.

"Admiral! He's done no such thing! That's just the way he talks! You're twisting his words around!" Kirk exasperated. Covington stopped and considered Kirk's words, and eventually came to the conclusion that Kirk had provided for him, albeit begrudgingly. _God this asshole was stupid, _he thought to himself. However, as Kirk turned back to Spock, Covington's voice sounded again.

"It doesn't even matter captain, as I've said, we have surveillance footage of him committing the act, and it's not like he has an alibi that would hold up in Court, he's freely admitted that he doesn't remember a thing, isn't that right _Commander_? Vulcan eidetic memory my lily white ass!" Covington sneered, surprising Kirk at the open profanity. It was very unbecoming of a Starfleet admiral and reminded him terribly of Marcus.

Spock looked pointedly at him and nodded slightly.

"You are correct admiral."

"Spock! Don't agree with him!" Kirk warned desperately, afraid that Covington was going to use Spock's words against him as he'd already tried to do. Covington however, was grinning manically now.

"And isn't it true Commander, that you had already engaged Anton Mitchell in a physical altercation previously at _The Admiral's Arms_? If you don't recall, I'm sure your _captain_ here does."

"Listen here you—wait…what?" Kirk stuttered as his eyes widened slightly. What physical altercation previously? Rapidly he looked from Covington back to Spock, whose face remained impassive. Covington smirked.

"Oh I forgot to put in that little detail captain, the man your Commanding Officer murdered was the same man you all had a run in with at that bar, the one who escaped this Vulcan's wrath." He snorted smugly.

"He didn't escape! Spock let him go!" Bones argued, but Covington wasn't listening. Kirk inwardly winced at Bones' poor word choice. It wasn't like _that_ sounded any better that what the admiral had said.

"Nevertheless…was he not the same man you had a _physical_ altercation with earlier that night Commander?!" Covington bellowed at Spock, completely ignoring Bones.

"Indeed he was." Spock answered quietly. Bones swore.

"Goddammit Jim! Get him to stop talking! Before he talks himself into an even bigger hole than he's already in!" Bones pleaded. Kirk mentally wanted to reach across the table and slap Spock to shut him up, but he remained frozen in the moment. The next words spoken by the admiral were worded very carefully, almost strategically.

"And wouldn't it be fair to say _Commander_, that in light of these facts pertaining to your altercation with Mr. Mitchells, one could easily assume that you might have had a motive for murder?"

"SPOCK, I ORDER YOU NOT TO ANSWER THAT!" Kirk screamed furiously as he placed himself in front the admiral, his hands slamming down on the table as he gazed intensely at Spock. Covington was trying to set Spock up in trap, and there was no way in hell he was going to stand by and watch it happen.

Spock, who had opened his mouth to reply, quirked his eyebrows at the captain, but didn't say anything. He felt the admiral brush up beside him, his heated eyes boring holes into the Vulcan.

"Commander…I'm the ranking officer in this room, you will answer the question!" Covington hissed. Spock turned his gaze from Kirk back to the fuming admiral, his expression as impassive as ever.

"Technically admiral, while you are the ranking officer present, this is merely a questioning, and not a Court Martial Hearing. There are no Federation Council members present to hear my testimony. Therefore, legally, I am not obligated to answer any questions which I do not deem necessary." Spock countered evenly. Kirk beamed, while the admiral just became all the more flustered.

"But you had no problem answering them earlier?" he questioned, eyes narrowed.

"I have never had a _problem_ with answering truthfully, nor have I exhibited any behavior which might lead you to that conclusion. Any answers to any questions I have given this morning are all factual and, whether or not they are incriminating to me or not, does not change the fact they did occur. The only reason I have elected to cease answering your questions is because my captain has given me an explicit order to do so." Spock replied with barely a hint of smugness. Convington suddenly looked as if he was about choke, his face as red as a tomato.

Kirk silently wished he would.

"Logical, Spock." Bones offered playfully, obviously not being able to resist the urge. Spock inclined his head to him.

"Thank you Doctor McCoy."

By now, Covington was fuming.

"Oh you three think there won't be any consequences for this? That you can just…_talk_ your way out of a murder charge because of who you are? Well…you've got another thing coming! All of you do, and especially—," the admiral paused in his rant to glare icily at Spock, "…_you."_

Spock was not intimidated, and neither was Kirk.

"We will let the Council decide that admiral, after all…that's their job, not yours." Kirk retorted, not liking the way that he threatened Spock. Covington shot him a _go to hell_ look before turning abruptly towards the door. Before he made his exit, he swiveled his head to say one last thing.

"I'd say my goodbyes now; while you still have the chance Vulcan…they're going to put you away for a _very_ long time."

Spock regarded the admiral with an impassive gaze as he exited into the hallway and yelled over his shoulder.

"I'll see you all at the Court Martial Hearing!"

**Please Please Please let me know what you think! I will have the next chapter up as soon as I can!**


	3. Standing in the Mud

A.N **Thank you to everyone that reviewed! It really does mean a lot to me and I guess my muse is going crazy right now because I had to get this chapter out! Firstly, I'd like to apologize. It was pointed out to me on another fan fic site where I'm also posting this, that I had Uhura and Covington referring to Dr. McCoy as Dr. Bones? I didn't mean for this to happen, and I blame word. I was using the replace feature to replace McCoy with Bones simultaneously throughout the chapter when I was editing it. I replaced everything with Bones so I apologize for that! I've corrected it though so it should read right! Also, Khan is misspelled in chapter one. Also, my fault *hides face in shame* Which brings me to the point of beta readers. I'm fairly new at writing fan fic (have been an avid reader for years though) and so the utilization of a beta reader is still a new concept for me. I'm not sure how to go about using one? Where to find one? L Yagami has offered to beta for me for grammatical errors and such so a big thanks for that! However, I would also like someone who is fairly knowledgable in the Trek verse? Someone to call me on my bullshit when it comes to technical stuff. **

**Secondly: From what i've seen in the original series, as well as the movies (TOS and NU) it's not really clear as to the actual procedures and protocol regarding legal trials and what not. I mean, in a couple of TOS episodes we see Lawyers involved, and then in others...like Turnabout Intruder, and the Menegeria...there isn't one. SO...this is my loose-LOOSE-interpretation of how criminal proceedings are handled in the 23rd century. I'm being straight with you when I say I bullshitted my way through it...so just be gentle with me. I'm not claiming it be accurate, but it's all in good fun and good intentions.**

**Okay end rant! Please enjoy! Aside from angst and language, no warnings to be concerned about!**

Chapter Three

Standing in the Mud

The three men stared after Admiral Covington in silence until Doctor McCoy finally spoke.

"Not a very pleasant sort of fellow is he?" He snorted as he moved closer to Jim, his arms folded across his chest, and that omnipresent scowl on his face. His captain ignored the comment and continued staring at Spock, his expression grave. Spock had to admit, he was slightly unsettled by it. A few more moments passed in silence, which only added to his illogical anxiety.

_What was Jim thinking right now?_

"Spock…this?—this is some serious shit." He finally pointed out grimly. Spock raised an eyebrow at the idiom, but did not comment on it as he usually did. Despite the unorthodox way his captain had described the situation, it did not make it any less accurate.

"I mean—I don't even know where the hell to go from here!" Jim exasperated as he began pacing the room, a hand running through his hair. It was something—Spock noted—he only did when he was experiencing nervous, or angry emotions. "Should we get you a lawyer now? Do you even have one?"

"Attorneys are not utilized in Vulcan culture. In the rare event that a crime does take place, it is not handled in the way that humans handle their own criminal trials and legal proceedings."

Jim stared at him.

"You're half human Spock, so I think you're entitled to all the rights that humans have. What's the protocol on this situation?" He went on in vague annoyance. It was apparent to Spock that the captain had not been as attentive as him in his Government and Military Procedures courses back at the Academy.  
"I don't think it works like that Jim…" Doctor McCoy began. Jim rounded on him.

"Well then how the hell does it work Bones?" He yelled bitterly. Sensing a verbal dispute in the works between the two men, Spock decided to intercede. After all, he knew Starfleet's rules and regulations when it came to the legal rights of an accused party perfectly. It was only logical that he share his knowledge on the subject.

"Doctor McCoy is correct captain. Starfleet's protocols regarding legal proceedings for offworlders are substantially different than for that of a human currently enlisted."

"Spock you're half human! Surely they just can't ignore that!" Jim exasperated, his face flustered.

"Nevertheless Jim, while my physiology might be in part human—,"

"Not _part_ Spock…half…you're fucking half human dammit!" Dr. McCoy interrupted, Spock continued on as if he hadn't spoken.

"—it is also undeniably Vulcan, thus rendering your previous assumption Jim, null and void, in the eyes of the Admiralty. I am not a full human, therefore I am not protected under your species' laws where acquiring an attorney is concerned. In this case, I believe the Admiralty will refer to my own species' laws and customs regarding this situation. Therefore, it is reasonable to conclude that I will be my sole defender at my Court Martial. A fact I am fully capable of accepting. I am the one being charged." He finished stoically. Jim's eyes narrowed and his cheeks reddened. He had been expecting that reaction, as illogical as it was.

"Well if that's the way they're gonna play it, then how is a Court Martial even _legal _in your case if you're Vulcan? Shouldn't they…I dunno…ship you off back to New Vulcan and let them handle it?" Jim solicited, his tone conveying sarcasm, Spock noted.

"I am still a commanding officer in Starfleet Jim, and I have been charged with murdering a human citizen of Earth. I calculate the odds at twelve point three percent that I will be extradited to New Vulcan. I will be tried here, of that I can assure you. My case will most likely be decided on by a collection of selected admirals who will no doubt take depositions from all three of us in regards to what took place at _The Admiral's Arms._ After that, I suspect I will attend a formal Court Martial hearing where I will be questioned in a public venue, and then sentenced." He pointed out stoically, not failing to notice the way his captain's face fell further with each word.

"Well, isn't that just sunshine and daisies…" Doctor McCoy commented dryly.

"Well what kind of bullshit is this?" Jim exclaimed as he ghosted over the Doctor's confusing idiom with another one of more simplistic nature. Spock raised a single brow. Of course he had been around humans enough to understand the term _bullshit, _and what it entailed, but given the emotional mood Jim seemed to be in, Spock could not help but try to bring a smile to his face. He had an illogical fascination with the way Jim smiled and its' innate ability to anchor him…_calm_ him. It was a completely illogical notion, and, utterly foolish, but nevertheless true.

"I assure you Jim, feces has nothing to do with this situation, nor does terran flora." Spock put in with a glance to the Doctor who openly scowled at him. From Jim however, all his statement earned him was a hard glare in his direction instead of the soul warming smile he had been hoping for. Obviously this was not the time to make an attempt at humor. Spock quickly ceded the endeavor.

"Spock…I'm not in the mood right now, and I really don't think you understand the gravity of this situation…" Jim began with a heavy sigh as he rubbed at his eyes. Spock raised another eyebrow. How could Jim think he did not know just how serious this was? Of course he knew.

"Of course I understand captain—,"

"Oh know you don't, you're not gonna start that captain shit up with me…It's Jim! Call me Jim! For Christ's sake! I may be here as your captain…but I'm here as your friend first."

_And I wish you could be so much more—_Spock longingly thought to himself and instantly clamped down on his mental faculties. It would not do to give into emotions at this juncture, not when his life was literally hanging in the balance.

"Nevertheless, I can assure you that I am fully capable of comprehending the—,"

"Dammit Spock! If Admiral Covington is anything to go off of, they're about ready to nail your green blooded ass to the cross here!" Doctor McCoy shouted, throwing his hands in the air in an exaggerated motion. Spock raised both his eyebrows even higher if that were possible, in confusion.

"If you would clarify Doctor?"

The older human huffed in annoyance.

"I'm saying, that it looks like they've already made up their minds as to whether you're guilty or not Spock."

"Impossible Doctor, as my trial has not even taken place yet. Therefore, they cannot have arrived at a verdict at this point in time." Spock countered impassively. He thought his explanation might diffuse some of the Doctor's most obvious and surprising anxiety over him. However, it only seemed to further annoy the human.

"I can't talk to this—this _robot_ Jim, he's impossible." He admitted with a shake of his head as he turned to face the wall. Spock opened his mouth to refute the obvious derogatory statement, but the captain beat him to it.

"Let's just all calm down here a second." He ordered with an air of authority as he looked from Spock to Doctor McCoy. This perplexed the Vulcan, for he had remained calm the entire time. It was the Doctor who was exhibiting severe emotionalism.

When Jim was sure no one was going to interrupt him, his gaze fell on Spock. "Okay…Spock, do you know what kind of evidence they have against you?"

"I have been made aware cap—_Jim_—of the evidence that has been collected against me." He replied plainly. Though he had not seen it yet, much to his dismay.

"Alright then, you're good with statistics…what's the likelihood that the Admiralty will rule in your favor?"

"Approximately thirty-three percent." Spock replied without hesitation. Whether it was the speed with which he answered, or the answer itself, the two men in front of him seemed disheartened by his reply. However, they were unaware that he had already made this calculation eleven times now since he regained coherency. At first, the odds had been higher, but after seeing Admiral Covington's obvious display of negative emotions towards him, he had to assume that more than one member of the tribunal trying him would harbor the same feelings. He had never been the majority favorite after all, on this world or his native one.

"Well, those aren't very promising." The Doctor mumbled bleakly. Jim narrowed his eyes at him before looking back to Spock with a determined expression.

"They're not going to punish an innocent man Bones, once they hear Spock's side of the story, I'm sure they'll see they've got the wrong guy. This is _Spock_ we're talking about here." Jim argued, but to Spock, it sounded like he was trying to convince himself more so than Doctor McCoy.

"I…I…_fear_ it is not that effortless Jim." Spock admitted almost regretfully, his eyes diverting to his hands, which were tightly bound to the table. Spock could just make out the green, inflamed skin beginning to chaff underneath the manacles. The security officer who placed them on him had made them uncomfortably tight, which was why they irritated him so. To do such a thing was against regulations. He knew this, but he did not complain to Jim. He didn't want to draw unnecessary attention to himself more than he already had. Add to the fact that it would only upset his captain, and he found that unacceptable.

"I don't see how it can be any more complicated. You're innocent. You'll be able to convince them of that." Jim countered as if no one would dare question it. His confidence in him made him feel…_warmer_, even if it wasn't warranted. He could always count on Jim to see the hope in a situation when it was not there at all. It was one of the many things he found so endearing about the man. His belief in the no-win scenario.

If Spock had been giving into his emotions, he would have given an audible sigh, but he repressed it and settled for just staring at Jim, but it was a stare that held a thousand words. What he was about to admit to his captain—this man who he had grown to care about as deeply as he had ever cared about anyone—would be difficult for him. It was always difficult to admit to someone who held you in such high regard that their regard was ill warranted.

"I am afraid that I cannot do that Jim, for to convince them of my innocence would infer that I believe that myself, to which end I have not decided yet." Jim's once confident gaze quickly became tentative. The sharp contrast in the expressions startled Spock.

"I don't understand Spock."

_Of course he would have to further shame himself. _

"To claim my innocence would mean that I am admitting that I am innocent, a fact that I am not convinced of."

"Are you saying you killed this Anton guy?" Doctor McCoy questioned vociferously.

"No I am not Doctor McCoy, I do not feel that even with the lapse in my…my _emotional_ control…" Spock found it hard to voice these words. "…That I would have done something of such an appalling nature to Anton Mitchell. However, the fact remains that I _did _become emotionally compromised yesterday evening, and it _did _involve the victim…and…I cannot ignore the fact that there are approximately six hours missing from my memory. Six hours that I cannot account for." The two men in front of him glanced at each other uneasily.

"Jim, I hate to be Debbie-downer, but he's got a good point…" Doctor McCoy began regretfully. Instantly Jim rounded on him.

"NO! I won't accept that!" He turned back to Spock. "You didn't _murder_ anyone Spock! So quit talking like you did! We all have our moments—hell! I've had plenty of moments! That doesn't mean you're a murderer!" Jim roared at him.

"Vulcans do not _have_ moments Jim. They do not lose control as humans do. There was a time when they did, and such times were dangerous and violent, but through the teachings of Surak, they overcame these emotions and learned to suppress and control them. Therefore, a _moment_ for a Vulcan does not bode the same definition that it does for humans." Spock tried to explain. How could he get Jim to understand?

"Exactly! The Court will have to see that! Surely the Vulcans could help sway their—," he began enthusiastically, only to be hastily cut off by Spock.

"Allow me to rephrase…_Full _Vulcans do not lose control. I have lost control, on more than one occasion Jim. I am not a full blooded Vulcan, I am half-Vulcan, the only half-Vulcan to have ever come into existence. Therefore, my control is unprecedented." He objected.

Spock could see it now, the defeat starting to settle in Jim's blue eyes, but he still refused to give up. So characteristic of his captain.

"But…but the Vulcans…your father I'm sure…I'm sure they'd speak on your behalf—,"

"On the contrary Jim, of what is left of the Vulcans, they will be far too immersed in the rebuilding of our race to come speak on my account, especially my father, who is one of the few directly involved in rebuilding our civilization on New Vulcan." Spock countered easily.

"But it's your father Spock! I'm sure he'd make the Goddamn time!" Jim sputtered. Why couldn't they understand him?

"It is illogical!" Spock snapped suddenly, and immediately regretted it if the hurt look on Jim's face was anything to go off of. But he didn't know what else to do to make him understand. This conversation was futile, and would continue to go around and around without an end. "I—I am not infallible Jim." He added quietly as he downcast his eyes back on his hands.

His human half wished that maybe his father would come to his aid, just this once. If there was ever a time where he could use his father's infinite wisdom and logic…it was now.

"What—helping your family is illogical now?" Jim spat as he paced up and down the room with more haste now. He noted that the captain chose to ignore his last comment.

"Surely someone on New Vulcan would put in a word for you Spock, someone who doesn't have as many _duties_ as your father does, someone who could make the time." Doctor McCoy suggested, and the bitterness in his voice didn't go unnoticed.

"As a race facing extinction, everyone's _duties_ are important Doctor." Spock supplied evenly, quickly losing his patience with the man. He wished they would forget it before he was forced to admit the real reasoning why he would not be expecting anyone from Vulcan to come to his aid.

"But you're one of their own!" Doctor McCoy argued, obviously taking over Jim's earlier crusade of instilling confidence in him. Spock actually did sigh this time, a sigh that didn't go unnoticed by his friends who were unused to such human emotional display from him. It appeared as if he would have to divulge his reasoning after all, lest this bickering continue.

"As much as I regret it, I have never been and never will be, _one of their own_ Doctor." Spock would rather not have admitted something so personal to them, but they had cornered him so to speak. He did not wish them to know that in addition to feeling like he didn't belong amongst the humans, he even more so did not feel as if he belonged among the Vulcans, who judged his every move more harshly than the human race. Now they—no…_Jim_—would know the truth, and that was that he did not belong anywhere.

"I know someone, Spo—I mean—Selek! Ambassador Selek will help you!" Jim exclaimed, regaining that exuberant enthusiasm from before. "He'll know what to do, I'm sure of it." Doctor McCoy gazed at Jim questioningly.

"Selek? As in…elder Spo—,"

"Affirmative Doctor." Spock cut him off quickly as he averted his narrowed eyes to the security detail stationed at the door to silently will the Doctor not to divulge anything further. His counterpart's identity was still a secret, and only a choice few individuals knew who he really was.

"Of course Bones, who the hell else am I talking about?" Jim stated as if the answer was obvious. As much as Spock supported the idea, he knew it was also impossible.

"I have considered that option Jim, and as much as I approve, it would be most injudicious to bring superfluous attention to…the Ambassador. As of now, the only beings aware of his relationship to me are the bridge crew on the Enterprise, yourself, Doctor McCoy, and my father. Getting him involved in this affair could lead to unwarranted action against him. I wish to avoid this." Spock pointed out, and for some reason which he could not fathom, Jim lost his temper.

"_Goddamnit_ Spock! I don't know what you want me to do here! I'm trying to help you, but you just keep shooting down all my ideas!" He shouted, and the anger swarming off him made Spock inwardly flinch as it washed over the room and flooded his own emotions. He clenched his eyes shut and took a few seconds to re stabilize his fragile mental shields before replying, his inner turmoil going unnoticed by the pair of men in the room.

"I do not require assistance Jim, this is my responsibility, not yours." Spock declared with difficulty as the emotions continued in their attempt to burst free. _Had he always reacted this way around the captain? Had Jim's emotions always had this effect on him? _He thought in bemusement as he tampered down again on them.

This was the Vulcan way. Vulcans did not think it proper to accept help in situations of their own doing. The lesson to be learned, was that if you made your own mistakes, you fixed them on your own. Apparently humans had a different philosophy in mind.

"That may be how the Vulcans handle things, but we do it differently on Earth, Spock. You're my friend…my _best_ friend—," Spock's heart beat increased slightly, "and I'm not just gonna sit here and watch you burn." The Vulcan's rapidly beating heart surged with warmth at being considered a best friend. Not just a friend anymore, but a _best _friend. Spock had come to the conclusion that the captain would most likely never return the romantic feelings for which he himself secretly harbored for him, but as long as he had Jim's friendship, he would be content. He would have to be.

Jim waited impatiently for him to reply, but for the first time in a long time, Spock had nothing to say. Anything he could say would only further upset his friend. This, apparently, was the wrong thing to do.

"Fine—you know what? That's just fucking fine, sit there in silence, see if I care. Hell, I don't know why you don't give them the rope and pick out a tree while you're at it!" Jim exasperated as he turned abruptly to leave, not giving Spock the chance to question what a _rope_ and _tree_ had to do with this situation. The previous feelings of warmth and contention vanished at Jim's angry words. He was upset with him.

Doctor McCoy's eyes met Jim's briefly as the young captain hastily left the room without even saying goodbye. Spock would never admit how much the obvious dismissal hurt. He was still staring and blinking at the door through which Jim had just exited when the Doctor interrupted his remorseful musings.

"He just wants to help you Spock, we both do."

Spock blinked a few more times at the now shut door before finally turning his attention back on the Doctor, who had a most surprising expression of gentleness on his face.

"I do not doubt the captain's intentions Doctor McCoy…nor his loyalty." He replied, diverting his gaze back down to his hands, focusing on the chaffed, raw skin on his wrists. Doctor McCoy followed Spock's eyes down to his wrists, concern instantly taking over him.

He moved closer to the table and hastily grabbed the Vulcan's hands to exam them. An immediate surge of _concern_ and_ outrage_ came through the sudden link that sprung up between them, and had he been able to move his arms, he would have pulled them free from McCoy's grip.

"Goddammit Spock! These are way too damn tight!" He declared in that medical tone every Doctor possessed, but with a hint of the emotion that only Doctor McCoy seemed to posses.

"It is nothing to concern yourself with Doctor, I do not feel any discomfort from them." Spock answered evenly. It was true; he didn't feel any pain or irritation from the obvious constriction from the cuffs. He was Vulcan. He could block out such a feeling. Up to a certain point that is.

"I don't care, it's unnecessary cruelty." Dr. McCoy stated, leaving no room for argument as he turned Spock's hands over to examine the other side of his wrists, that perpetual scowl plastered on his face.

"You can't be that close to the prisoner sir." A stern voiced sounded from behind the Doctor. Both Spock and McCoy looked towards the door to evaluate the red-shirted security ensign standing there, regarding them coldly and detachedly.

"You want to explain to me why these cuffs are so damn tight on Commander Spock? I'm sure this violates regulation fourteen point five, unnecessary roughness with a—," McCoy started, but was rudely interrupted.

"You can take that up with Admiral Covington sir, he's in charge of Commander Spock, and it was his orders to have him restrained in that fashion." The ensign replied smoothly. McCoy narrowed his eyes.

"Oh I intend to." He brought his attention back to Spock, his eyes softening. "I've gotta go Spock, I've gotta make sure Jim doesn't do something stupid…you know Jim." He chuckled half-heartedly.

"I do understand the captain's habit for getting into undesirable situations." Spock agreed.

"Yeah…obviously something that's begun to rub off on you, you stubborn hobgoblin." He pointed out as he turned to take his leave.

"Doctor McCoy?" Spoke inquired as his eyes tracked after the retreating man.

"Yeah Spock?"

"Would you please…give my apologies to the captain? I—I believe I have upset him and that was not my intention." He requested quietly, his heart swelling with repressed emotions at the thought of Jim upset with him. It made him feel illogically cold.

An unnamed emotion flitted through the Doctor's eyes before he answered.

"Look Spock. Jim—Jim's not mad at you okay? I don't think that bastard could ever be mad at you. He's just upset with the situation. He's worried for you. We all are." McCoy clarified sympathetically. Spock nodded impassively and looked back down at his hands.

When it was obvious he wasn't going to fashion a reply, Doctor McCoy left the room, not hearing the small words leave Spock's mouth.

"I share the sentiment."

((oOo))

Kirk was beyond pissed as he stalked down the hallway towards the turbo-lift. Pissed at Spock for his seemingly _nonchalant_ attitude towards this entire thing. Pissed at that fucking Covington prick, who seemed to have some kind of death wish for the Vulcan. But most of all—pissed off at himself for not being able to prevent the entire situation in the first place.

_Why? Why did you let him go home alone last night? Why the hell didn't you follow him! You wanted to! You wanted to the moment he got that look in his eyes…that horrible self-doubting look! _Kirk castigated himself as he pounded on the panel to signal the turbolift. It finally opened after what seemed like a small eternity and he walked inside.

The doors had barely begun to slide shut when an arm was thrust inside to keep them from doing so, and in came a disgruntled looking Bones.

"Just what the fuck Jim?" He exasperated as he came to stand in front of him. Kirk ignored the question and reached around his friend to hit the button for the main lobby. This only further annoyed the man.

"Hey! I'm talking to you!"

Kirk felt his ears heat up.

"WHAT—Bones!?" He snapped angrily. There was so much going through his head right now, the last thing he needed was Bones' headbutting attitude.

"Don't _what_ me Jim! You know exactly what I'm talking about! Spock gets on my last nerve as much as the next Dudley-Do-Right, but was it really necessary to treat him like that? He's just been accused of murder! Be-littled, and threatened all in the course of a few hours!"

_God why did these turbolifts take so fucking long, _Kirk thought bitterly as fished for a reply.

"Exactly Bones! Yet he's barely fighting this! He just fucking sits there, stoic-ass and all, and acts like it's not a big deal! Like his life isn't on the line!" Kirk bellowed as the turbolift finally came to a halt and the doors opened up into the main lobby. It was little busier now as various officers went about their morning routine.

"You know as well as I do Jim that that's all just an act. A face he puts on for the world to see." Bones argued with him as the two began trekking across the large lobby, gathering stares at their hasty pace and raised voices.

"We're not the _world_ Bones. We're his fucking friends…I'm…I'm his friend." He explained almost pleadingly. "He doesn't have to hide with me." He finished softly.

"That may be true Jim, but he's still a Vulcan. Getting angry at him isn't gonna solve a damn thing." Bones replied, causing Kirk to round on him, eyes blazing.

"Oh really Bones? And what about you? You were just as pissed off in there as I was!" He accused loudly, causing a cluster of officers just a few feet away to stop their conversation and stare at them. "Can you be helped?!" He spat at them, needing someone to direct his irritation off on. The officers who clearly recognized him glanced hesitantly at each other before bustling off in different directions.

"That's different Jim—,"

"Oh is it now?" Kirk could barely contain the sarcasm dripping in his tone.

"Yes it damn well is! I'm _always _that way with Spock, and it's pretty obvious the green-blooded sonuvabitch doesn't give a shit what my opinion is!" Bones fired at him.

Kirk had his mouth open to reply but his friend obviously wasn't finished.

"Whether you realize it or not…Spock actually seems to place some kind of—of _value_ on your opinion Jim. He actually—and God forgive me for saying this—_cares_ about what you have to say." His voice had become softer by now. Kirk's still open mouth snapped shut as he pondered the information. Of course Bones was right. It hadn't been that way in the beginning. Not at all. Now however, things were definitely different between him and his First. Different in ways even Kirk was hesitant to admit to himself. Suddenly the full weight of how he treated Spock moments ago fell down on him.

"God I'm such a _shit!" _Kirk exasperated as he palmed his forehead.

"That's the understatement of the year." McCoy muttered under his breath, loud enough for Kirk to hear. He fixed his friend with an even stare as they exited the building.

They were outside on the steps now, the sun barely beginning to rise. Kirk closed his eyes and inhaled deeply as the fresh air permeated his senses. When he exhaled, he kept his eyes closed as guilt continued to tear into him. His friend raised an eyebrow.

"This isn't just about Spock acting like Spock is it." It was phrased as a statement more than a question. Leave it to Bones to see right through him. Kirk took a few seconds for himself before answering, suddenly overcome with a desire to admit what was really tearing him up inside.

"…It's my fault Bones…if I hadn't—if only I'd gone with him—,"

"Then it probably would've been you _and_ the hobgoblin cooling your heels in a cell right now. Jim! This isn't your fault!" Kirk's eyes shot opened as he glared at his friend.

"Of course it is! I knew he was obviously emotionally compromised, and yet I did nothing. I didn't even call Uhura to make sure he got back okay! What the fuck kind of friend does that?!" He shouted in disgust.

"Then it's as much your fault as it is mine! Hell I'm even more to blame than you! Not only did I get Spock involved to begin with—hello? The fight began with me!—but I'm his Doctor! _I'm the one_ who should have gone after him." Bones said painfully as he placed his hands on Kirk's shoulders and shook him slightly. Kirk wanted to negate the response, to tell his friend that what he said was a bunch of bullshit, and that he shouldn't blame himself. But he couldn't, because Bones was right…they both should've done something! And he felt horrible for even thinking such a thing.

_But I know him better than Bones…I should've known…I should've seen…_

Kirk sighed heavily as he focused on the ground. Bones and he could throw the guilt card around all day long and it wasn't going to get Spock any closer to freedom.

"It doesn't matter now. It happened. We can't change it. All we can do is move forward and get him out of this." He muttered as he resumed walking, a certain purpose in his steps.

"And just what the hell do you intend on doing?" The sounds of Bones' footsteps indicated the other man was following right behind him.

Kirk didn't halt to answer as he hailed them some transportation. Starfleet still hadn't issued him his own flitter to use temporarily while he was on leave, but that's because it hadn't really been necessary. Everything he needed was within walking distance of his assigned apartment. Even that Goddamn bar…

"I'm going to the Police Station. Spock told that bartender back there to call the authorities. If anyone's got some answers, I'll bet one of those assholes has got em."

The Police Station, as it turned out, was a complete waste of time. Not only were the men from the bar not there, but there hadn't even been a record of them being arrested, which had to mean that the authorities had never even been called. The entire situation just got shadier and shadier it seemed.

"You think he didn't call them?" Bones inquired as the two stood outside the Police Station, pondering their next move.

"Obviously he didn't, but my question is why? Why wouldn't he call them? His bar was practically torn to shit, an illegal fight had obviously taken place, by law he _should have_ called them!" Kirk exclaimed as he became more and more confused. None of this made sense. "I think he knows something." Kirk accused seconds later. Bones raised an eyebrow as his eyes widened slightly.

"What the bartender? Come on Jim! Now I agree, something definitely fishy is going on, but the bartender? That's reachin' Jim."

"We've seen weirder things Bones, and you know it." Kirk deadpanned as he fixed the other man with a leveled eyes. Bones pursed his lips.

"Look Jim, I'd love to stay here and play _secret agent man_ with you, but I've gotta head back to Starfleet. This may be shore leave, but I'm still a Doctor, and I've got duties back in med bay." Bones informed him as he checked the time on his chronometer. Kirk couldn't help the disdain that bubbled up within him at his friend's dismissal, but he knew it couldn't be helped. He knew the man had a duty to uphold, the same as the rest of them.

"Fine Bones. Just comm me when you're done." He said impassively as he made to turn and go. Bones' hand however, fell on his shoulder and turned him around so that he was suddenly gazing into hard, diligent eyes.

"Now you listen to me Jim, I don't want you wanderin' off to that bar alone—and _don't_ give me that look, I know that's what you're wanting to do. I'm not stupid—just…just wait for me to get off my shift and I'll go with you. For some reason, the universe tends to agree with your little hunches the minute they crawl up your ass, and if you _are_ right…"

"I got it Bones. I won't go anywhere without my babysitter." Kirk replied, gaining an annoyed eye roll.

"I'm serious Jim. Instead why don't you try to get back in to see Spock, maybe he'll be willing to talk more openly if it's just you there." He offered as he turned and left. Kirk stared after him, pondering the idea. While his first intention had been to go straight back to the bar, he couldn't fight the growing need to see the Vulcan again. It was almost painful in its' intensity. _You need to apologize to him anyway for what a complete ass you were earlier, _he further convinced himself.

Mind instantly made up, Kirk decided to head back to Starfleet Headquarters. The bar could wait. His friend's feelings—that he denied having—were more important.

"I'm sorry Captain Kirk, but Commander Spock isn't allowed visitors at this time." A security ensign informed him brusquely when he requested an audience with his First Officer.

"I'm not a visitor _ensign, _I'm his captain. Now take me to him." He demanded darkly, immediately moving to stand straighter. The ensign however, was obviously not going to be intimidated.

"I'm sorry captain, my orders come from the top. You'll have to take it up with Admiral Covington. He's in charge—," the ensign began.

"—Of the prisoner. Yeah, I got it." Kirk finished lamely before stalking off back to the turbolift. His apology would have to come later it would seem, which only made him feel worse. Somewhere Spock was sitting—probably still shackled to a table—with the belief that Kirk was mad at him, and fuck if that didn't bother him!

Thinking about Spock reminded Kirk of the other thing he'd been meaning to do, and that was to try and get a hold of Ambassador Sarek. He knew Spock wanted him to keep his father out of it, but Kirk knew the minute he'd forbade it that he was going to ignore the request and do it anyway. Duties be damned. If anyone could help Spock, surely the Ambassador of Vulcan—New Vulcan now—would hold some sway over the issue.

Going back to his apartment, Kirk made himself a strong cup of coffee, and settled in front of his computer terminal. He saw no less than five unread messages from Uhura, probably wanted to be updated on what was going on with Spock. He _had _promised her he'd let her know what happened, but he just couldn't deal with that right now. He knew he'd better make time soon though, or the fiery Lieutenant would start blowing up his communicator. In fact, he was surprised she hadn't already done so.

There were at least fifty more unread messages in his inbox. Some from Scotty, which were probably just updates on how the Enterprise's refit was coming along. Two of them belonged to his mother—like he gave a shit about what those messages contained—and the rest belonged to random people he didn't care to get to know. As he continued to sift through them, his eyes caught onto one message thrown in the middle of the bunch that he probably would have missed amongst the cluster fuck that was his inbox at the moment.

It was message from Spock. Sent a while ago, right before him and Uhura had broken up, but most notably before everything went to shit.

His eyes hovered over the unopened message as he debated on whether or not to open it. It dawned on him that when Spock had composed this message, he'd been a free man, unburdened by a murder charge. To say that he felt haunted by the thought was as accurate a description as any. His eyes lingered over the message hesitantly as he struggled to come to a decision.

_Jesus Jim get a grip! The man's not dead! _He inwardly berated himself as he gave the command.

"Computer. Open message from Commander Spock. Numbered forty six." He had been hoping for a visual message, as it would have been beyond comforting to at least see the face of his First Officer again, even if he'd just seen him this morning. However, it was just a simple, typed message. Old school.

_Jim—," _It began, and Kirk's heart practically skipped a beat as his own mind supplied him with the surprisingly accurate voice of Spock sounding out his first name.

_It has been my observation that the varying attentions from the media, as well as your peers and superior officers, is causing you gratuitous strain on your mental faculties. Lieutenant Uhura has taken the liberty to inform me that in such situations, it is logical to participate in some variation of recreational activity—preferably away from the source of unwanted attention—Thus, I found it prudent to extend an invitation for you to accompany me to my mother's hometown in Little Rock, Arkansas. I have only been their twice as a child, and I find myself experiencing an illogical wish to see the town again. I understand if you find this inappropriate. However, I find myself hoping that you will accept nevertheless. The trip would take place—_

Kirk tore his eyes away from the screen before he could finish the rest. Spock, his friend, had not only wanted Kirk's company on what he would term a 'road trip', but a trip to see his mother's birth place! He knew how much Spock's mother meant to him, how much he had loved her. Just the fact that the Vulcan would actually _ask_ Kirk to come with him on such a personal venture spoke volumes.

The screen before him was starting to blur slightly, and at first Kirk thought it was experiencing technical difficulties. A few seconds later he discovered that there was nothing wrong with the computer…it was his tears interfering with his vision.

_Why didn't he just ask me? _He thought next. Obviously the message had been sent well before Kirk and McCoy had taken him with them to the bar, and they'd seen each other even before then! So why didn't Spock just come out and ask him? Of course Kirk could think of one reason. _He would have found it difficult to ask me. The very nature of the trip is rooted in emotion. _

Kirk's tears continued to fall freely down his face as he frowned angrily. It was an anger directed at Spock's upbringing. An upbringing which instilled in him that such emotional wishes were illogical and needless. _Experiencing an illogical wish, _he had written. To the Vulcans, visiting a place which had obviously had a major influence in his mother's life—who was now dead for Fuck's sake—was illogical.

Yes, this would be the answer that Kirk would stick with—and not the other, more painful reason. Which was that Spock might have written it instead of coming to him directly, because the Vulcan thought the chances of Kirk actually agreeing to go with him were next to none.

It wasn't true of course. Kirk would've accepted in a heart-beat, but it hurt him deeper than it should have to know that somewhere in Spock's brilliant and gentle mind, he had very well might have considered it.

His anger growing too intense for idle sitting, Kirk suddenly shot out of his chair, making it fall back to the floor with a hard thud, and threw his coffee mug across the room and against the wall. The sound of it shattering as it made contact was ear splitting, and did nothing to quell his inner turmoil.

"Goddamnit Spock! You could have told me! I would have said yes! I could never say no to you!" Kirk was almost hysterical now as the tears continued to flow. Just what was he admitting to himself? _No, _he thought defensively, _don't think about this now, we don't have time for this. _He finished determinedly as he wiped at his eyes and went to stand the fallen chair back into its rightful position.

He sat himself back down and carefully found Spock's message again to save it as well as forward it to his PADD. He couldn't delete a message like this. Especially not now.

That done, Kirk found Sarek's contact information through Starfleet, and proceeded to send him a voice message informing him of everything that had happened. That would have to do for now until he could gain access to a better communication system which the likes of his apartment _did not_ offer.

As soon as he was finished with that, he departed and headed to the one place Bones had told him not go alone. He knew the older man was probably going to throw a hissy fit, but he couldn't sit around and do nothing, not while Spock was sitting in a cell somewhere.

Roughly twenty minutes later, Kirk found himself outside _The Admiral's Arms_. Since it was much too early for most of the population to be frequenting a bar, Kirk was relieved that only a couple of people were seated inside, most likely alcoholics who preferred to get a head start on things.

Kirk inspected every inch of the place as he inched further in, searching for any sign of the struggle that had taken place here last night. However, the entire place was spotless…not a glass shard out of place.

The customers spared him a curious glance, and after coming to the conclusion that he was neither remarkable, nor a female, dipped their heads back into their drinks. Kirk looked straight ahead to the main bar in hopes of finding the bartender that had been there last night. There was a man there, but his heart sank when he realized it was in fact a different person. Of course, he half expected it to be. A bar that operated during the day was bound to have various bartenders. He hadn't come all the way out here for nothing though.

"Excuse me, could you tell me who the bartender is that was working here last night? Kirk questioned as he came to stand at the bar, ignoring the irritated glare he received from the gangly looking Tellarite seated beside him who had been enjoying his silence. The bartender who had been cleaning out some glasses with a rag gazed at him suspiciously.

"And…you are?" He added distrustfully. Kirk sighed impatiently.

"I'm Captain James T. Kirk of the U.S.S. Enterprise. He was a witness to some events that took place here at that time and it's important that I speak with him." Kirk stated carefully, not wanting to enlighten him to the fact that _said events_ were actually a bar fight that he himself had been a part of. At the mention of his name, the bored, impassive faces in the room suddenly turned to him with peaked interest. Even the one annoyed Tellarite was inspecting him eagerly now.

"_The _Captain Kirk? Oh shit! My brother is never gonna believe this!" A rough, middle aged man sitting at the end of the bar drinking a dark liqueur exclaimed jubilantly. Kirk ignored him, he didn't have time for this. Instead, he held his gaze on the bartender, waiting impatiently for a response.

"I'm afraid I'm gonna need to see some identification. I highly doubt you are who you say you are. The _Captain Kirk_ I've heard of couldn't be as young as you are." The man retorted in amused disbelief. Kirk clenched his fists tightly as he attempted to reign in his anger. For one thing, it just so _happened_ that he didn't have any fucking identification on him, and then there was the issue that he was still dressed as a civilian, so he couldn't even rely on the uniform to get him a pass.

"Look, I don't have that stuff on me; I'm not technically on duty right now…I'm on shore leave." He answered sincerely. The bartender laughed dryly.

"A likely story." He spat before turning and placing some glasses up on a shelf. Kirk felt something snap within him and he brought his fists down on the bar, causing the entire surface to vibrate under the sudden pressure. The Tellarite's beverage sloshed slightly, and bits of liquid went flying out of the glass. In response, the Tellarite narrowed his eyes and rounded on Kirk with an angry roar, but Kirk was ready for him. Intercepting the Tellarite's attempted strike, Kirk grabbed his wrist, and with a twist, brought it behind the alien's backside, making him immobile.

"Now you listen here, I'm going to let go of you, and you're going sit there quietly, and order yourself another drink, do we understand each other?" Kirk ordered through gritted teeth. The Tellarite began to struggle again in an attempt to retaliate, but Kirk was too skilled for him. Being a captain definitely had its' perks.

Bringing his arm even tighter back behind him, the Tellarite let out a cry and ceased resisting.

"I said—do you understand?" Kirk repeated clearly. The Tellarite nodded begrudgingly, and Kirk released him unceremoniously from his grip. Rubbing his pudgy arm and wrist, the alien gave him one last glare but nevertheless, took his seat. Kirk stared at him a few seconds longer before turning his attention back to the now, slightly fearful bartender. Kirk felt slightly guilty, he hadn't wanted to scare anyone, but he was a desperate man at the moment.

"Look, I'm not wanting to start trouble here, I just need to know where I can find him. It's extremely vital that I talk to him. He's not in any trouble or anything." Kirk tried to convince the man who was fixing him a wary look.

"Listen _captain_, even if you are who you say you are, I can't just give you his address without some kind of warrant." The bartender began. Kirk opened his mouth angrily to respond but was cut off. "_However_—I can tell you that he'll be here later this afternoon to work his shift. You can talk to him them as long as you don't start any trouble. This is a place of business…not an interrogation room."

Kirk closed his mouth and mulled over the man's words. He didn't want to wait that long, but it was better than nothing, and he didn't really expect to get anything more from the man in front of him. At least not without using force, and Kirk just wasn't that kind of guy.

"Thank you." He answered simply before turning to leave. Just as he was walking out the door, he couldn't help but overhear the middle aged man at the end of the bar.

"Holy shit man! You almost got your ass handed to you by Captain Kirk! I can't wait to tell my brother about this!"

((oOo))

"You did what!?" McCoy sputtered as he paced Uhura's living room.

After yet again having his request to see Spock denied, Kirk had decided to meet Uhura at her, and Spock's apartment to fill her in on everything while he waited for Bones' shift to end. Using her terminal, Kirk had also noted with disdain that Sarek had yet to make any sort of response to his message. Now, four hours later, all he could do was stand here and take the wrath of his friend for doing exactly what he'd said he wouldn't do.

Kirk shared a glance with Uhura.

"It seemed like the logical thing to do Bones! I mean, that is where Anton Mitchells first came into the picture!" Kirk argued.

"Logical? Do me a favor Jim, and leave the _logical _bullshit to that pointy eared—," Bones started, but caught himself. He obviously didn't feel right referring to Spock with his usual sarcastic nicknames. "—To Spock." He settled for. "I told you not to go do anything stupid, and what did you do? You went looking for trouble!" He chastised.

"I'm quite capable of handling myself! I don't need you to babysit me Bones! I wasn't just about to sit here the entire day and do nothing!" Kirk tried to reason, confused as to why Bones was getting so bent out of shape over him visiting a public bar.

"Besides, I don't see what the big deal is anyway; I mean…it's just a bar!"

"It's a _big deal,_ Jim, because there's obviously somebody out there who was smart enough to get to Spock. What if they want to get to you next?" He asked loudly.

"And if they do? What am I supposed to do? Keep looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life? Hello Bones! I'm the Captain of a Starship…I can't exactly avoid dangerous places! It kind of comes with the territory!" He replied angrily, thrusting his arms in the air in frustration. Bones seemed to consider his words quietly before he sighed, and let himself fall back onto Uhura's couch, where he placed his forehead in his hands wearily.

"I know Jim. And deep down, I can't even really blame you. It's just…with everything going to shit lately; I can't help but be overly worried. I'm sorry." Bones divulged apologetically. Kirk regarded his friend sympathetically before coming to sit down in an arm chair next to him, exhaustion reeling throughout his body.

"It's fine Bones. It's not like you haven't always been like this right? You're like my second mother." Kirk joked, trying to ease the man's grim mood. Bones rolled his eyes, but appeared slightly more relaxed now. He then looked at Uhura, not missing the fact that she hadn't spoken a word since he had returned.

"Besides Bones, you'll still get the chance to _chaperone _me. The guy wasn't even there. It was someone else behind the counter."

Bones snorted.

"So, you risked your life going back to this dump, and you didn't get what you came for?" He summed up sarcastically. Kirk ignored it.

"I'm going back tonight, that's when the guy we're looking for is supposed to be back." Kirk supplied.

"I'm coming with you." The once silent Uhura suddenly chimed in. Bones abruptly stood up from the couch to glare at her.

"Whoa, now just hold up a damn minute here! I might not be able to stop him from being a dumbass, but I'm definitely not going to stand by and watch you be one too. You're staying right here." Bones stated firmly. Uhura turned abruptly to face him, her eyes narrowed.

"Spock might be my ex-boyfriend, but he's still my friend! Something you idiots keep forgetting. I can help you captain, and you know it." She stated darkly as she crossed her arms over her chest and stuck her chin up. She looked absolutely menacing. Kirk wondered how Spock ever survived being with her in the first place. He'd have cried mercy a long time ago.

"No Lieutenant, I can't allow you to do that." Kirk added in his captainly tone. Uhura's eyes narrowed into little slits.

"Why? Because I'm a _woman?_" She hissed dangerously. Kirk stared stupidly back at her. He couldn't believe she'd just played that card on him.

"Seriously Uhura? I sent you out to negotiate with a pack of Klingons, and you think I don't think you're capable of walking into a bar?" He sputtered in disbelief. Uhura looked mildly embarrassed.

"Then…why?" She asked finally, her tone one of genuine curiosity.

"Because you're my Communications Officer, and while Bones and I cover the bar, I need you to do your damndest to get through to New Vulcan and get a hold of Ambassador Sarek. I'm not having any luck, and if Spock needs anyone right now…he needs his father." Kirk relayed to her, and it was true. A flash of understanding crossed her eyes before she nodded minutely.

"Of course captain." She said professionally as she readied herself to leave for Starfleet, to no doubt make use of their infinitely more advanced equipment.

"Oh and Lieutenant? Just Sarek. We're not on the Enterprise, and I don't want to risk talking with the older version of Spock when the conversation could easily be overheard."

"Understood sir." She affirmed. Kirk looked back over to Bones.

"Alright Bones. Let's get this show on the road."

The older man scowled and downed the rest of his coffee like it was a shot.

"Wonderful."

((oOo))

Kirk practically power walked all the way back to _The Admiral's Arms_, Bones nipping at his heels to keep up.

"Jesus Jim slow down! You're gonna give me heart attack! I'm a Doctor, not a damn marathon runner!" He panted as the two men made their way to the bar's entrance and inside.

It was definitely busier now than it had been this morning, which was to be expected. Kirk couldn't even see the main bar from the entrance it was so crowded. _It's a good thing it wasn't this crowded when we brought Spock here, he definitely wouldn't have liked this crowd…Vulcans and their touching issues, _Kirk thought errantly.

After a trivial amount of pushing and shoving to wade through the crowd, Kirk and Bones finally made it to the main bar, but to Kirk's immense disappointment, the man he had been looking for was not the one currently behind it. Instead, it was the bartender from this morning…the one who had copped an attitude with Kirk.

The two locked eyes, and after a flash of recognition, the bartender immediately averted his gaze.

_Really? You're going to act like you don't see me? _Kirk thought angrily.

"Jim…that's not him." McCoy muttered from beside him, causing Kirk to sigh in annoyance.

"I know that Bones." He answered dully before positioning himself directly in front of the bartender so that there was no way he could attempt to ignore him.

"Hey! You remember me?"

The man regarded him warily, and Kirk noticed that he seemed a lot more stressed out since this morning.

"Of course I do…you're the one who was claiming to be _Captain_ Kirk." He answered sweetly, though there was nothing sweet about it.

"That's because he is Captain Kirk, now show a little respect." Bones demanded from beside him, and being as the Doctor was actually in his Starfleet science blues, there was no question about his rank. Kirk, who still hadn't changed into his own uniform, was extremely grateful that Bones had thought to do so.

"Look that doesn't matter, what matters is that you told me that I would be able to speak with your associate here tonight. You _said_ he was working. I don't see him." Kirk pointed out impatiently, a twinge of anger in his tone. He had literally wasted a whole day to see this guy, a whole day that could have been spent doing something else, like looking for more evidence elsewhere.

"Hey! I asked you to pour me another one!" Someone yelled from a couple of feet down. Kirk and Bones both turned to find a rather drunk, slummy sort of man glaring at the bartender furiously. This guy had definitely reached his limit a long time ago.

"Just give me a sec Jerald, business here." The bartender replied evenly, never taking his eyes off of Kirk. Perhaps seeing that Bones was actually a member of Starfleet implied that Kirk might actually be who he said he was.

Grumbling and muttering profanities to himself, the man slammed his empty glass down, but otherwise kept his seat. Kirk was strongly reminded of the Tellarite from this morning. _Fuck another one of these assholes?_

"I know that's what I said Mr—_Captain _Kirk, and I didn't lie to you, Charlie was supposed to be here tonight…but…well, something happened…" He started hesitantly.

"I WANT THAT DRINK!" The drunken man began again. Being that he was already treading a thin line with his emotions lately, Kirk snapped at him.

"Did you not hear him? He said just a FUCKING second!" Kirk yelled with such anger that it caused even Bones to stagger backwards slightly from his fury. The drunkard sized Kirk up with his eyes, but after seeing that Bones was with him, flanking him, decided not to say anything else.

A few of the surrounding patrons stopped what they were doing to watch Kirk and the drunkard, hoping that a fight would break out. Unfortunately for them, it didn't happen.

"Now," Kirk turned back to the bartender, his gaze piercing, "you said something happened?" He inquired, imploring the man with his tone to finish the statement. He dreaded whatever answer the man was going to provide him with, if the look on the bartender's face was anything to go off of.

Sighing heavily, the man let the liquor bottle he was holding thud back down on the counter.

"He's not here because earlier today, he passed away. He had a heart attack."

**PPPPPLLLLLLLEEEEEEEAAAAAAASSSSSSSSEEEEEEEE Review! Let me know what ya'll think? Should I keep going? Are you liking it?! The suspense is killing me! **


	4. Judge and Jury

**A.N. A big big thank you to those that reviewed! This is the last chapter that I will be posting un-beta'd! I had to post this one because I promised someone I'd do so within a certain time frame. One thing to point out...I mention here that Spock's body temperature is actually lower than a humans because according to memory alpha, A vulcan's body temperature is normally 91 degrees, or 32 celcius, whereas a human is usually at about 97 F or 98 F. It seems like in tons of stories, Vulcans are always thought to have hotter skin but from this, i've gathered that it's actually the opposite, which makes sense...if you're in a hot environment...I guess having more body heat would actually be detrimental? I don't know, I'm just going off what I read on alpha. This is no way saying that other stories are incorrect...I'm just saying that this is how it is in my fic and I didn't want anyone taken by surprise. **

**Warnings for this chapter include language, and a scene with violence (murder taking place) **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek! **

** Chapter Four**

"I think we should go back to the alley and look around again." Kirk suggested as both him and Bones walked through the halls of Starfleet. They were their way to the medbay where his friend's shift was about to start. Beside him, Bones sighed tiredly. Kirk knew why, for they had already been there, and it had been in vain.

The first time was two days ago, and the second was just yesterday. It was the location where Starfleet had informed him the _crime_ had taken place. Originally he thought the place would be a goldmine for evidence, but aside from blinking caution signs, and warnings to keep out, there was nothing there. Zilch. Starfleet Intelligence, he suspected, had already cleaned the place out.

On the second day, Kirk had been dragged in to some high up's office, where they took a deposition from him regarding everything that had happened…_that night. _He reiterated everything, save a few minor details. _Like how Spock pretty much lost his shit with the victim…_

Something told him that particular detail would be better left unsaid. Bones had been called in the third day for his own testimony.

Now though, it had been four days since that last, guilt-ridden meeting back in the Interrogation Room with Spock, who he _still_ hadn't seen. Four days of constantly running around chasing dead ends. Four days of wondering what was happening to his friend. Was he being treated fairly? We're they making sure to feed him? We're they allowing him to tend to his hygienic needs? Kirk knew better than anyone how meticulous the Vulcan was about that sort of thing. It didn't matter what time of the day it was…Spock was always immaculate from head to toe, and to think that he was being denied that...

These questions accosted him on an hourly basis.

It bothered him.

And why? Why could he not shake this damn apprehension that practically had him by the balls where Spock was concerned? And through it all, Kirk had barely gotten a wink of sleep. He couldn't. For every time he shut his eyes…there was Spock which brought forth that plague of burning questions. Due to the severe lack of sleep, he was starting to take on a slight tremble in his hands from his overuse of the stimulants he'd swiped from Bones' medical kit when he thought the man wasn't looking.

The crash from those things was the worst, but if kept Kirk going…then it was necessary.

Now, as they bustled through the corridors on the way to the med bay, the familiar drag from his latest stimulant injection was beginning to parade through his system.

_Another fucking crash. Just what I need. _

"We've already been there twice now Jim, it's a dead end." Bones countered with an eye roll. Kirk silently agreed, but he wouldn't admit to it.

"We might have missed something Bones! Third time's a charm right?" Kirk offered weakly. Deep down he knew Bones was right. He knew they wouldn't find anything more than what they'd already found…which was a whole lot of nothing. But after the revelation that the one person who might have provided them with answers was dead, Kirk couldn't help but be desperate.

Bones shot him a look that said, _you know we didn't miss anything._

"Sorry, I just don't know what the next step is." He apologized glumly. "I guess I'm kind grabbing at anything."

"Well if you'd bothered to ask me, I already took the next step." Bones said dryly.

Kirk looked at him quizzically while Bones looked around himself for potential eaves droppers. Satisfied that they wouldn't be overheard, he glanced back at Kirk.

"Don't you think it's a bit suspicious that the one guy who might've known something suddenly dies of a heart attack?" He questioned in a low voice. Of course Kirk thought it was suspicious, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. Since when did anyone outside of his crew listen to him?

Bones took his silence as affirmation.

"Uh-huh…that's what I thought too." He added just as they entered the turbolift that would take them to the med bay. Being the only two inside, Bones went back to using his regular voice.

"I didn't want to say anything until I knew I was onto something…" He began as the turbolift started to ascend. Kirk glared at him, his eyes glimmered with expectation.

"What do you know Bones." He demanded.

"Well, after our little excursion at the bar, right after I left you, I decided to give a looksee into Starfleet's database to see who performed Spock's medical exam. As you know—well, actually you probably don't—but Starfleet regulations mandate that any prisoner taken into custody be examined by a medical officer…" He let his voice trail off, much to Kirk's annoyance.

"…And! Come on man, the suspense is killing me!"

"Oh keep your panties on!" Bones scowled. "So after I found out, I went on to see if the same Doctor that performed Spock's medical exam the night of the murder was the same one who performed the autopsy on our dead bartender friend…" Bones instantly went silent as the turbolift doors opened into the med bay. He grabbed Kirk by the shoulder, and hastily led him out of the turbolift and into an inconspicuous corner out of sight.

"And?" Kirk prompted anxiously, hanging onto every word.

"And I'll be damned if it ain't the same sonuvabitch that _did_ attend to Spock that night. Someone by the name of Dr. Kel Hangerton."

Kirk felt his heart leap at the revelation. Perhaps they would get somewhere after all.

"Do you know em'?" He probed quickly, making Bones go sour.

"Unfortunately…no. Looks like he just transferred here temporarily from London." He growled regrettably.

"London huh? The same place where that top secret facility was that Khan destroyed." Kirk commented suspiciously, his brain already analyzing everything he'd just learned.

"Damn convenient isn't it?" Bones added sarcastically as he and Kirk continued walking towards the exam rooms. As they approached the main reception desk, a female Orion seated behind it grabbed his attention.

"Doctor McCoy, you've got a patient waiting in room six." She informed him, a flirtatious glint in her eyes. She then set the same eyes on Kirk, where she smiled even more after a quick once-over.

"Thank you Nurse." He replied evenly as he grabbed one of the PADD's from off the desk area and began sifting through it.

"Of course…you know what this means don't you?" Kirk couldn't resist saying as pieces began to fall into place. The look on his friend's face told him that, yes, he _did_ know what it meant. And it wasn't good.

"It means that Starfleet is behind this, or…at least someone in Starfleet is. Someone high up." Kirk continued quietly as they walked down the hallway.

"It's Marcus all over again." Bones commented sourly before stopping outside of an exam room. Kirk knew he couldn't follow him. This is where their conversation would have to end.

"I'll see you in a little bit Bones."

Bones waved a dismissive hand at him before disappearing behind the door to whatever patient awaited him.

As he was walking back out of Starfleet Headquarters and wondering what the fuck to do next, he almost ran head first into Uhura, who had been running up the steps, not looking ahead of her. The encounter took him by surprise.

"Jesus—_shit! _I almost knocked you over! What's the hurry?" He exasperated. Uhura's eyes were brimming with anger as she doubled over to catch her breath. She'd obviously been running for a while. "Uhura?" He queried further, truly starting to become uneasy now.

"I've—I've been looking for you Kirk. I just heard." She managed through her heavy panting. Kirk gazed at her cautiously.

"Heard what? What are you talking about?" He asked, barely able to contain his growing panic. She looked at him bemusedly for a few seconds before answering.

"About the Hearing? The Hearing taking place here tomorrow? For Spock!?" She yelled in alarm. Apparently she had not expected him to be so ignorant on the subject.

"—_What!?"_ He sputtered as his eyebrows skyrocketed. He didn't know what he expected her to say, but it wasn't that. He thought it would at least be a month before any sort of trial began! And even that was pushing it!

"But—but it's _way_ too soon! It hasn't even been a fucking week yet!" He continued irately.

"I know captain." She sounded disappointed. Extremely disappointed. He on the other hand, was epically pissed.

"I've taken shits that've lasted longer than how long it took to get this crap together!" He bellowed, utterly red-faced and furious. Uhura wrinkled her eyebrows together at his colorful analogy, but made no comment. Instantly the cogs in his brain whirred as he mentally went over what he and Bones had collected so far.

_How about nothing, _he thought as he began to panic.

His inner voice was right. They didn't have a scrap of evidence that would help Spock at this point. They hadn't had the Goddamn time! He knew Starfleet had evidence. Covington had said as much four days ago. He didn't have shit!

_Okay, breathe Jim, breathe, _he tried to calm himself, so he could start putting things into order step by step. What did he need to do?

"The Ambassador. Has he responded yet?" He choked out, even though thinking about it made him sore. Uhura had been trying constantly to get in contact with the older Vulcan, but so far they'd just been given the run-around at the Embassy on New-Vulcan, and had yet to talk to him. So, the answer she gave was as he expected.

"No captain. I haven't." She stated darkly. She was pissed off to it seemed.

"That fucking bastard." Kirk hissed as he put a hand to his forehead in an attempt to quell the rage in his mind. _When he saw that Vulcan fucker again…_

Uhura remained silent, but he could tell by the look on her face that she wholeheartedly agreed with him.

"Captain, sir, have you tried to get in and see Spock again?" She asked timidly, yet hopefully. He instantly felt bad for her. Unlike him and Bones, she hadn't been there with him four days ago. As wondrous as the meeting had gone, he regretted his decision to send her home that day. He could only imagine what he would feel like if he were in her shoes.

He frowned at her.

"Yeah…I tried this morning like I do every morning, but every damn time, they tell me the same sob story. I'm inclined to take a phaser in there and stun their asses until I find Spock." He muttered darkly.

She chuckled lightly at his empty threat. "We both know you wouldn't do that." He cocked an eyebrow.

"It's extremely tempting Lieutenant," He said before adding, "when is the '_Hearing' _supposed to take place?"

"Tomorrow morning sir." She answered in barely above a whisper. Kirk shut his eyes and groaned. "And you won't _believe_ who the tribunal is."

"Who are they?" He asked without opening his eyes.

"The Federation Council."

His eyes shot open and widened instantly.

"—The fuck?"

"They took this to the highest court Kirk. I don't like it. Something is wrong about this." Kirk could definitely agree with her on that.

"When they come out, they come ball's swingin' don't they." He muttered sourly to himself. "Come on," he added when Uhura didn't say anything. "Let's go get some caffeine."

It wasn't until the next day that they were finally able to see Spock.

((oOo))

The next four days passed very differently for Spock. Shortly after Jim and the Doctor had made their abrupt departure, a full security detail had come in and had him taken back to his holding cell. They kept his hands cuffed in front of him, he assumed as a precaution incase he attempted to overtake them when they decided to move him again. When that _move_ would take place, he did not know. No further information had been given to him. This was unfortunate, as the metal cuffs encasing his wrists had now rubbed the skin there raw. They would definitely require the use of a dermal regenerator.

The temperature in his cell was unpleasantly cold, even by human standards, but upon his request to have it raised, the security officer stationed outside his cell merely stared at him as if he had asked something outrageous.

"Stupid Vulcans, I could be on the beach right now, but _nooooo_, I'm stuck here, babysitting the elf." The officer muttered angrily to himself, unaware that Spock, being half-Vulcan, had a very keen pair of ears.

Spock didn't make another request.

Later that day, they came and acquired a deposition from him. The _Admiral_ he noted, was not in attendance. He found a small measure of comfort from this. He did not wish to see Admiral Covington again.

By the second day he had hoped—no—hope was an emotion…He had _expected_ to see the captain and Doctor McCoy again, but they never came. In fact, no one else came to visit him. The guards would bring him three square meals a day, but that was it. It irritated him that no one had taken the time nor courtesy to come in and at least inform him as to what was going to happen. This, he would have been grateful to know.

In his vast amount of free time, Spock did his best to attempt meditation. Although it was extremely difficult because of the icy temperature, it was still somewhat successful, and helped to slightly center him.

On the third day, he made a mental note to not meditate between 1200 and 1600 hours, due to the security officer who routinely stood guard outside his cell at that time. It seemed like every time he would get close to slipping into a full trance, a very loud racket would distract him. It was the sound of the officer hitting his cell with the butt-end of his phaser. Spock would raise his eyebrows at him in confusion, but that only caused the man to shake with laughter. This reaction was illogical, and unwarranted, and it disturbed him more deeply than he would care to admit. If he had been taken prisoner by the Romulans, or Klingons, he might have expected treatment such as this. But not from Starfleet. Not from the Federation.

By the fourth day, Spock was beginning to grow restless. He still had not heard any new information regarding his case, nor had he seen his friends. Every time a new security officer came to switch places with the previous one, he would ask them the queries he wanted answers to…but each time they would either ignore him, or make some derogatory remark at his expense.

So, he stopped asking.

Finally, the fifth day came about, and to his relief, he was permitted to see his friends again. He could make out their familiar voices from down the hallway, and just the sound of Jim's warm voice sent waves of anticipation through him. He had missed his voice, and though it had only been five days, and four hours, and twenty-two minutes since he'd last seen his captain, it had felt like so much longer to him. It was illogical, he knew, but he couldn't help how he felt.

As they rounded the corner, Spock was able to put faces to the voices. Nyota was with them, and he felt warmth at seeing her again. Yes, they had terminated their romantic relationship, but they still held one another in high regard. He would always consider her one of his closest friends. He was extremely agreeable to the fact that she was here now.

"Spock!" she cried as she ran to his cell and brought her hands up. For a moment, he thought she would actually touch the force-field, and he opened his mouth to warn her before she injured herself. However, the uneasy glance she spared the barrier as she brought her hands back down by her side was enough to keep him from commenting.

Instead, Spock nodded to her impassively, not failing to miss the slight tear trailing down her ebony cheek as she took him in. He noted that he had never seen her look so physically exhausted. He wished the barrier didn't exist. Then, he could wipe her tears away.

"Nyota." He greeted. "I am sorry that I caused you undue worry." He said, remembering that he had never come home on the night he had been arrested, and she probably had been worried for him. She laughed at him, though it was hollow, and looked from his eyes down to his bound hands. Instantly fury enveloped her as she glared at the metal cuffs surrounding Spock's wrists. He hoped she could not see the raw, marred skin underneath.

"Are these necessary?" She spat at the security officer, who didn't answer her. It was the doctor who did.

"We've already been down that road darlin. I swear, this place is made up of nothing but royal assholes." Doctor McCoy said sourly before nodding a greeting to Spock who returned the gesture before looking at Jim, who had been silent so far. If Nyota appeared exhausted, it was nothing compared to Jim's physical state.

Where once his skin had been vibrant and glowing, it was now gaunt and pale. His eyes, which had looked so animate back at the bar, were now bloodshot and hollow. Spock noted a slight trembling in his hands, which suggested that a strong stimulant—probably supplied by the doctor—was acting in his central nervous system. And if the dark circles under his eyes were anything to go off of, his captain was thoroughly exhausted.

"Captain…you require rest." He said firmly as he leveled his eyes at the captain. Jim waved him down.

"_Jim, _Spock. And don't you start that with me. I'll be fine. You've got your own problems right now." He said lightly as he moved closer towards the barrier. Spock illogically wished he could reach out and touch him, to take some of his exhaustion within himself.

Jim smiled warmly at him before running his hand through his hair, looking slightly guilty, Spock decided.

"Look Spock, I'm sorry for storming out on you a few days ago. I…I was angry, not at you, but at the situation." He apologized, looking at the ground.

"There is no need to apologize Jim, I was not offended." Spock said, but Jim was already shaking his head.

"No, I shouldn't have acted that way. You were being who you've always been, and it wasn't right of me to expect you to be someone you're not…plus, if I'd known they weren't going to let me back in to see you…" His voice trailed off as he focused on a nonexistent object on the floor. Spock, again, wished he could reach through the force-field and take Jim by the shoulders. To reassure him that he had nothing—_nothing—_to be sorry for.

"I had assumed that something of that nature must have occurred, I did not at any time lay blame with you." Spock assured him, not wanting Jim to feel guilty on his behalf. He did not want _any_ of them to feel the way Jim so obviously did.

"Yeah, well we bitched, whined, and complained to anyone who'd listen, but they would **not** budge. The only reason we're being allowed to see you today is because of the Hearing." Doctor McCoy commented dryly.

Spock peered up sharply, this was the first time he had heard about this.

"My Hearing is scheduled for today?" He asked in a bewildered voice before he could stop himself. It was a shameful slip in control, but he could not deny that this bit of news was extremely surprising. Things of this nature rarely escalated so quickly in the human legal system. Jim, he noticed, had frowned considerably.

"Yeah…didn't they tell you?" he replied as shock encased his features.

"No. They neglected to inform me of this." He answered as he quelled his growing irritation. He would have spent more time meditating if he had known this. If someone had just taken the miniscule amount of time to inform him…he would have been better prepared.

"Doesn't surprise me." McCoy threw in. "The way this place is run lately…"

Spock's confusion and irritation for this segment of news must have been apparent on his face, because Jim was still frowning at him.

"Spock I don't want you to worry, I'll be right there with you. As your captain, I have a right to be there" Jim encouraged fiercely. There was the familiar warmth again as Spock stared back at Jim, and took refuge in the man's confidence. From the side, Nyota smiled sadly at the exchange.

"I am not worried Jim, _worry_ is an emotion." He defended in an attempt to instill his _own _confidence, though Jim just waved him down, obviously reluctant to believe him.

"Well, it doesn't matter." He said dismissively, "how you holding up in here? They treatin' you okay?" He went on as his eyes inspected every inch of the Vulcan. Spock couldn't help the heat that settled into the pit of his stomach at Jim's close scrutiny of him. Illogically, he wished Jim would look at him like that more often. It was definitely pleasing.

"I have been treated fairly Jim." He answered as evasively as he could. Jim didn't miss his avoidance. He knew him all too well.

"That's why your hands are still in restraints? Even though you're in a fortified fucking cell?" He chastised as he shot daggers at the security officer, who put forth quite an effort to not acknowledge him. "—And don't think I haven't noticed the green tinge you have on the tips of your ears, and tip of your nose Spock…it's obviously too cold in here. Hell, I'm even cold!" He further accused, hugging himself tightly for emphasis.

Both Nyota and Doctor McCoy regarded Jim with blatant curiosity at his detailed description of Spock's anatomy. Even Spock was taken aback at just how close Jim had obviously been inspecting him. Shaking his head, McCoy squinted his eyes, and moved closer to the barrier to examine Spock. Undoubtedly to provide his own, dramatic opinion as the Doctor was wont to do.

"Damn Spock, he's right! You would think Starfleet would know that Vulcans require higher temperatures, what with a lower body temp and everything!" He said in distaste.

"I have already made a request to have the temperature raised to a level more agreeable to Vulcan physiology. However, this request has been denied. But I ask that you do not worry, It is of no consequence." He tried to reassure them, and realized that he had failed miserably.

"That's not the point Spock! You have certain rights, and one of those is a right to some common decency!" Nyota scolded, a motherly look in her eyes.

"Seriously Spock, this isn't fucking right. You shouldn't be being treated like this dammit!" Jim yelled, and if the expression on his face was anything to go off of, the captain wanted to physically harm something.

The sound of footsteps echoing through the hallway interrupted the conversation Spock was having with his friends. It was full security detail. They were obviously preparing to take him somewhere. Spock glanced back at his friends, and noted the wary expression that had overtaken both Nyota and Doctor McCoy's faces. Jim however, looked downright angry.

They stopped outside his cell, forcing Jim, Doctor McCoy, and Nyota to step aside. All three did so begrudgingly.

"Hey, what the hell is all this, what's going on?" his captain questioned angrily.

"We've been ordered to escort Commander Spock to his Hearing, which is scheduled to take place at fourteen hundred hours this afternoon." One of the officers responded stonily. Doctor McCoy's eyes widened considerably.

"Dammit man! That's not even thirty minutes from now!" He yelled. Ignoring his outburst, one of the officers punched in a code outside his barrier, successfully disabling it. Three of the men then entered his cell, while the other three remained strategically placed outside, closing off all holes of escape. He considered informing him that an escape attempt would be illogical, but decided not to. It would change their decision to flank him.

"You don't give us any trouble, and there won't be any trouble." Voiced one into Spock's right ear, loud enough for everyone to hear.

"He won't give you any trouble for Christ's sake; you all act as if he's some kind of monster!" Jim snapped as Bones placed a hand cautiously on his shoulder, in case he should have to restrain him from attacking a Starfleet officer. Spock was grateful for this. He did not want Jim getting into trouble.

"Let us be the judge of that." They responded, motioning for Spock to start moving. He acquiesced with a curt nod, and proceeded with the men out of the cell, and down the hallway, his friends following behind him. Spock could not explain it, but he felt comforted knowing they were behind him. Knowing that Jim was behind him.

((oOo))

Kirk, Bones, and Uhura waited impatiently outside of the Federation Council Chamber, which was located in the building adjacent of Starfleet Headquarters. Kirk wasn't sure where they had taken Spock, all he knew was that as soon as they'd reached the turbolifts, the security detail which had been sent to take him, had stated firmly that they could not follow. He remembered he had tried to argue, but Spock had calmly assured him that he would see them again shortly. Obviously he didn't want Kirk making a scene…which probably would've happened.

He'd given Spock his best, reassuring smile, but the Vulcan's expression remained impassive as always. He thought his eyes though—for a brief second—might have glowed at him. Though he couldn't be sure. Perhaps it was just a trick of the light.

As soon as the turbolift doors containing Spock slid shut, Uhura wept onto his shoulder. He hadn't known what to do to comfort her. Crying women weren't his specialty.

So now, here they were, waiting on this damn thing to start. Kirk was pacing sporadically along the bench in which Bones and Uhura were seated. Uhura sat oddly calm, but her gaze held a far-away look. Spock had that look sometimes when he thought no one was watching him. He didn't know just how often Kirk watched him when he wasn't looking. It was definitely enough to qualify as the Vulcan's own personal stalker.

"Dammit Jim, stop that pacing, you're gonna give me a heart attack!" McCoy exasperated.

"I can't help it Bones! I'm going out of my mind here!" He exclaimed. It was tearing him up inside to know that, by the end of the day, his friend would either be a free man, or worse…

"Well you boring a walking trail into the ground isn't going to help anything." Bones pointed out sarcastically. Kirk rounded on him, his mouth open to rebut, when Spock suddenly appeared, along with the full security detail at the other end of the lobby. Uhura sprang to her feet and advanced forward, but Bones grabbed her wrist.

As they neared closer, Spock acknowledged them with a nod, and then his dark eyes fell on Kirk's where they lingered. He felt himself drawn deeper into the gaze. He could definitely get lost in those eyes.

The Chamber doors suddenly opened, effectively breaking off the exchange, and they were finally permitted entrance. The security detail, along with Spock, were the first to enter. Kirk turned and regarded his friends. Uhura gave him a desperate look.

"Please…please get him out of this Kirk…please…" she begged him earnestly.

Bones and Uhura were not permitted entrance into the Chamber. He thought maybe Bones would have been able to stand in with Spock, seeing as he was actually there and all, but since his statement had already been collected, the Council didn't think it prudent to allow him attendance.

_Fuckers._

Since this whole thing began, Kirk thought the whole way it was odd as fuck.

"I'm not letting him go down without a fight Uhura." He stated in a determined voice. Her expression wavered fearfully. Holding her steady by the shoulders, he gazed deeply into her eyes, willing confidence into them. "Don't worry; it's going to be okay." He promised her firmly before turning and walking into the Chamber.

"Give em' hell Jim." Bones encouraged as the doors shut behind him.

The scene before him was one that would make any guy nervous. For here, laid out before him, was the entire Federation Council in all their glory. Some of them he recognized, like Admiral Barnett, and Admiral Komack, who was the current head of Starfleet. Of course he'd be on the Council. In addition to them, there were the six security officers who had escorted Spock in, as well as several admirals seated up against the wall of the room, clearly here just to see the proceedings.

Kirk noted sourly that Admiral Covington was among them, a certain…jubilance in his eyes that irked the captain to no end. He did a quick once-over of the rest of admirals seated there, and was relieved to see that he recognized quite a few of them. In fact, most of them had come into contact with him in the past seven months to offer their gratitude for the whole Khan incident, and before that…it was the _Narada_ incident.

_Good, maybe Spock has some friends in high places here after all, _he thought gratefully to himself as he came back to examine the Council members seated at the high table again.

The Federation Council itself consisted of eight members, four of which were non-human. However, none of them were Vulcan, Kirk noted with disdain. Perhaps there had been at one time, but with so few left, the majority—if not all—were on New Vulcan rebuilding an entire species.

None of them Kirk knew personally, though he had seen them on holovids, and Barnett had been at his _own_ Court Martial back at the Academy over the _Kobyashi Maru_ incident.

_God that seems like so long ago now…_He thought wistfully.

He searched their expressions as they regarded Spock coming to stand at the podium in front of the high table, but he found no traces of emotions. That could either be a good thing, or a bad thing.

Spock hadn't been standing there for two seconds when one of the admirals—Cartwright—judging by the name on the plate in front of him—narrowed his beady eyes at the Vulcan.

Yup. Definitely a bad thing.

Kirk went to stand a few feet away from Spock, his hands clasped behind him in an attempt to be professional. He then turned to face the admiralty on the left, and gave his best Kirkian smirk, which was usually golden in his book. Some of them smiled back at him. However, Covington just looked plain annoyed with his presence.

_God why do I just want to punch that guy in the face? _He thought errantly as the smirk instantly vanished from his face when the two locked eyes. Thankfully, Admiral Komack's voice broke off the staring contest.

"This Council has been convened to hear the case of Commander Spock, First Officer, and Science Officer onboard the U.S.S. Enterprise, a Federation Starship, who has therein been charged with the murder of one civilian, so named Anton Mitchell, aged thirty-eight, human and male. Due to the nature of the charges, and the identity of the one so charged, this trial has been deemed Closed. Testimony from any and all witnesses has been collected prior to convening, and its' completion is a top priority."

Kirk interceded with a weak cough, which caused most of the Council members to glare at him as if he were a bug. He went on anyway.

"My Communications Officer is also here, she can provide additional charac—," he began, but Komack cut him off.

"Lieutenant Uhura will be asked to enter the Chamber if it is deemed necessary Captain Kirk." The man continued to glare at Kirk, who held the man's stare, but didn't say anything further. Errantly, Kirk wondered why Admiral Barnett wasn't the one speaking for the Council. After all, it _was _him heading his own case back during the _Kobyashi Maru_ fiasco. Maybe things were different now. _So much was different now,_ Kirk thought bleakly to himself.

Satisfied that he wasn't going to speak out of turn again, Komack turned his attention to Spock, who had been standing straight as board, his hands bounds in front of him with those God-awful restraints. He knew that if he hadn't been cuffed, he would have those same hands behind his back as was customary for the Vulcan. It bothered him that his friend wasn't even allowed _that_ simple dignity.

"Commander, please state your full name and rank for the record."

"My rank is Commander. My name is S'chn T'gai Spock. I am the First Officer, and Science Officer onboard the U.S.S. Enterprise. My serial number is S 179-276 SP." Spock replied robotically. Kirk stumbled over Spock's first name in his head, and wondered if he'd ever be able to pronounce it. Probably not.

"And what is your age?"

"Twenty-nine standard Earth years."

Kirk's brain reeled. Sometimes it was hard believing that Spock was only three years older than him.

"And where were you on the night in question as of twenty-one hundred hours?"

"I was in attendance at an establishment referred to as _The Admiral's Arms._ I had been invited to accompany Captain Kirk and Doctor McCoy to this establishment to share a beverage, which is customary in such cases. It was an invitation I accepted." Spock described as if he was lecturing to a room full of students.

"Isn't it true that while you were at this _establishment_, you were involved in a physical altercation with four civilians?"

"That is correct."

_Goddamnit this again?_

"Wait a minute, I was involved in this fight too, it wasn't just Spock alone." Kirk cut in, unable to stop himself. Admiral Komack regarded Kirk stonily at his outburst.

"Duly noted Captain. Now, if you will refrain from speaking unless you are spoken to." He instructed sourly. Spock turned slightly to face the captain, his eyebrows raised as if to say, _what the fuck are you doing?_ Kirk merely shrugged at him. Komack glared at him a few seconds more before turning back to Spock.

"Now, of these four men, one of them was Anton Mitchells, isn't that correct?"

"Indeed it is."

"We have it on several accounts that you attacked first, is this true?"

Spock furrowed his eyebrows together.

"That is untrue Council. Doctor McCoy was struck first, which is why I deemed it necessary to come to his aid, as I believed they had every intention of striking the Doctor again." Spock countered impassively. Admiral Cartwright, whom Kirk noted was also a member of the Federation Council, sighed in slight irritation, which _really_ annoyed the shit out of him. This was a murder trial for fuck's sake. This was Spock's life, his reputation, and _this_ guy was sighing like he was being forced to sit through a lecture at the Academy!

"What I mean to say is; when you confronted these men Commander…who hit who first?"

Instead of the usual swift reply, the Vulcan actually hesitated at this one, and Spock hesitating about anything was just unnerving.

"…I initiated physical contact first." He answered reluctantly. Kirk didn't like where this was going. Sure Spock threw the first punch, but the Council hadn't heard what those bastards had said to provoke him, and they certainly didn't care to hear how they'd broken his friend's nose. He had to say something.

"There's a lot more to it than that—," He began to protest. A collective groan sounded from the room.

"Captain Kirk. I'll ask you again to remain silent." Komack seethed with narrowed eyes, but Kirk ignored him.

"If you're not willing to hear my version of events, then why am I here?" He exasperated. He had just about had enough of this _dog and pony_ show. Spock, he noted, was fixing him with that glare again. Kirk acted like he didn't see it as Komack leaned dangerously forward in his chair.

"Let me make this perfectly clear captain. You are here because you are Commander Spock's superior officer, and regulation deems it so. That is it. Now, you _will_ abstain from speaking further. Is that clear enough for you captain?"

_How about you start treating my Goddamn First Officer with the fucking respect and fairness he's earned! _Kirk wanted to say, but he refrained from doing so. Instead, he settled for a curt nod of his head. Komack regarded him intensely for a few more seconds before turning back to Spock who was now facing forward.

"From what we've gathered, you and the captain…_you_ in particular…took the four men down with ease?"

The sudden memory of Spock throwing the men in the bar around like rag dolls came to mind. Yeah, he'd say it'd been pretty fucking easy for the Vulcan.

"As I am half-Vulcan, my strength is far superior to a human's strength, it was not difficult to incapacitate them." Spoke explained as if he was explaining the periodic table. All of the Council members glanced at one another uneasily.

"Except for Anton Mitchells. It has been made clear in each of the testimonies collected that you let him escape?"

"That is correct."

"After the departure of Mr. Mitchells, what happened next?"

"I spoke with the owner of the establishment_,_ and informed him that I would pay for any damages which had incurred on my behalf, I then advised him to contact the local authorities and have the three remaining men detained if the need arose. After that, Captain Kirk, Doctor McCoy, and I exited outside where I took my leave from them to return to my shared quarters." Spock described while Kirk replayed the entire scene in his head.

"You didn't think it prudent to contact the local authorities yourself?"

Spock hesitated again.

"I see now that I should have. I regret that decision, it was an oversight on my part." Admiral Komack narrowed his eyes.

"An…oversight?"

"…Affirmative admiral."

Admiral Komack then turned his gaze to Kirk.

"Captain Kirk, how would you describe Commander Spock's emotional state at the time he left you and Doctor McCoy?"

Kirk snorted.

"Oh so I can talk now?" He spat without thinking, and inwardly cursed himself as the older man frowned at him. At the rate he was going, he'd be demoted on insubordination alone.

"I won't dignify that with an answer _captain._" The iciness of the man's tone wasn't lost on Kirk as he ran his hands through his hair. He needed to choose his words wisely. His mouth was open mid-sentence when Spock interrupted him.

"Captain Kirk is not a licensed physician; therefore he cannot determine my emotional state."

"I am quite aware of that fact Commander; however, I would like him to answer the question anyway." Admiral Komack snapped as he motioned for Kirk to carry on. Kirk glanced warily at Spock before answering.

"He seemed fine." It was lie. He knew it, and so did Spock. After knowing his friend for two years, he knew that Spock had been upset that night, whether the stubborn Vulcan wanted to admit it or not. However, there was no way he was admitting that to the Council, just like he hadn't admitted it in his deposition. Komack regarded him suspiciously.

"I see, and do you know _why_ Commander Spock was making such haste to return to his quarters?" He questioned.

Without thinking about it, Kirk answered truthfully, as he didn't see any harm in saying what his friend's actual intentions had been.

"To meditate, as is a part of Vulcan culture." Kirk defended confidently.

"Admiral Komack, if I may cut in?" Admiral Cartwright, who was near the end of the table, asked.

"Of course Admiral Cartwright." Admiral Komack responded politely as he motioned to the other man.

"Commander Spock, you were returning to enter into a meditation? Is that correct?"

"I have already stated that. Yes, that is correct."

Kirk knew when Spock was giving attitude, and right now was one of those times. Cartwright visibly bristled at the Vulcan before continuing. _Dammit Spock, keep a lid on it._

"And the point of this meditation was to help control the emotions you had displayed at _The Admiral's Arms_, is that correct?" the man furthered. However, Kirk intervened before Spock could answer.

"Meditation for a Vulcan is nothing unusual. I don't see how whether or not Spock was returning to his quarters to meditate, in any way precludes to the possibility that he was emotionally unstable." Kirk snapped. Cartwright bore daggers at him.

"My _question_ was directed towards Commander Spock, captain." Cartwright dictated as he regarded the Vulcan again. "Commander, was the reasoning for your meditation that evening in any way to do with the emotional display at the bar?" He continued with an air of impatience.

"I wished to return to my quarters to meditate for the sole reason—," _Lie Spock…just this once, _Kirk pleaded inwardly. "—That it is a part of my customary, day-to-day routine. I had been at the bar longer than I had anticipated, which is the reason for my haste, as you pointed out." The Vulcan evaded as Kirk let out a sizable breath that he was unaware he'd been holding. _Good man Spock, good man._

"I see…" Cartwright replied with narrowed eyes. It was obvious he didn't believe him.

"I don't see what Commander Spock's meditation schedule has to do with anything. It's a known fact that Vulcans put a high regard on meditating. Let's move on to the next subject so we can be done with this tomfoolery." A large, boisterous looking sort of man in his late sixties pointed out from the far right side of the table. Kirk was relieved to know that at least not everyone on the Federation Council had it out for Spock. This man obviously believed Spock to be innocent if his tone was anything go off of.

"Yes, Admiral Conroy is correct; we need to keep this moving." Admiral Barnett agreed. _Score two for Spock._

Komack turned his attention back to Spock, taking the reins once again.

"So you departed for your quarters at around twenty-two hundred hours, but you never made it there?"

"Also correct." Spock agreed.

"Can you vouch for your whereabouts between the time you left the bar, to the time that you were apprehended by the authorities?"

_Shit…here we go,_ Kirk thought bitterly.

"I recall exactly twelve point three minutes of my walk home after I departed Captain Kirk, and Doctor McCoy's company at exactly 2215 hours. As for the time leading up to 0415 hours, when I was apprehended by the authorities, I have no recollection of any events that took place." Spock described impassively.

Kirk searched his friends face for any sort of emotion regarding the admission, but found none. He couldn't say the same for himself as a sudden swell of guilt emerged in his chest. He shouldn't have let Spock go alone. He should have gone with him. He should have made sure he was okay.

"So you are saying that you cannot recall seven hours of the events on that night? Is that what you are telling this court?" A female Andorian—V'lual—probed in disbelief. Suddenly, Admiral Conroy who had come to Spock's defense earlier cut in.

"Doesn't anyone think it's odd that Commander Spock suffered a lapse in memory in the first place? From what I know of Vulcans, this is highly unheard of."

A few murmurs sounded from the audience seated on the left; apparently they thought it odd as well. Hell, now that he thought about it…it _was_ pretty damn odd.

Admiral Conroy continued upon receiving no answer to his query. "I mean, did we have anyone from Medical check Commander Spock for any evidence of an attack on his person?"

Kirk felt himself shudder slightly as a cold chill trickled down his spine. The thought that someone might have possibly attacked his First Officer in such a way as to make him suffer amnesia? The thought was truly disconcerting, and he couldn't help the dark fury that swarmed within him at the thought of anyone doing such a thing so intimate and offensive to Spock. He hadn't thought of that as a possibility, and he felt utterly stupid for not thinking of it earlier when it mattered. _Some friend you are Jim…_

"Commander Spock was checked for injuries upon his arrival to Starfleet Headquarters. I oversaw the examination myself." Admiral Covington assured them firmly from off to the side. For some reason, Kirk felt this was a lie, and apparently so did Admiral Conroy who narrowed his eyes at Covington, evaluating him distrustfully. He then glanced back at Spock.

"Is that correct Mr. Spock?" He didn't bother addressing Spock by his rank.

"I cannot say for certain Admiral Conroy, for upon my arrival, I was not coherent. I did not become coherent until 0527 hours." Spock affirmed truthfully. Admiral Covington sent a nasty glare towards Conroy. Obviously the two _did not_ like each other. He felt he could sympathize with Conroy on this one.

"Well isn't that convenient." Conroy sneered as he returned the glare.

"The examination has been confirmed in Starfleet's database, and you can find the name of the Medical Doctor who performed it, there as well. I had thought this would already have been entered as evidence" Covington replied haughtily.

The Council muttered amongst themselves for several seconds, perhaps trying to discern a course of action. Admiral Conroy, still glaring at Covington, brought out a PADD, obviously confirming the information for himself. After a few moments of engrossed reading, a frown began to draw its' way on the admiral's pudgy expression. Conroy looked back up at Spock with a regretful look. Kirk's heart sank.

"His information is correct, there was a medical examination done, no injuries were reported." He said in monotone as he threw his PADD ungracefully onto the table's surface, where it elicited a loud popping sound. Kirk glanced over at Covington and felt his face heat up at the smug look the admiral now wore.

"I suggest we move on to the next item on the list…the holovid that was captured with our surveillance cameras." The Andorian, Admiral V'lual, advised. Her voice was surprisingly robust for such a small frame. There were a few murmurs of agreement amongst the room, and Kirk found himself leaning forward slightly in anticipation.

He remembered Covington saying something about there being some sort of footage of Spock committing the crime, and if that were so…well…He didn't want to think of the consequences of something as incriminating that.

Admiral Komack motioned to someone at the back of the Chamber, and a small, hand-held device was brought forth by a security officer. Kirk recognized it as a projector for playing holovids. He watched with bated breath as the officer placed the device up accordingly, and initiated the video. A large screen materialized about ten feet in front of the device and Kirk found himself staring at the Starfleet insignia.

He chanced a glance at Spock who, if he hadn't known any better, looked almost nervous about what he was about to see, which in turn made Kirk doubly nervous. When he turned back to the holovid, the insignia was no longer visible, and instead, he found himself looking at a random alleyway somewhere in San Francisco, though upon further inspection…he knew it was the alley he and Bones had visited twice already.

The alleyway was dark, secluded, and littered with trash and forgotten treasures. There was a time slot located at the bottom left-hand corner of the screen, and Kirk converted the time to standard in his head. It was 0122 hours, and the name of the street, HavenCrest Ave.

A shadow began to gradually emerge on the murky walls, and it wasn't long before the shape of a man could be seen walking rather rigidly into the passageway. Kirk squinted his eyes to better make out the identity of the man. Then, almost as if someone had detected the trouble he was having, the screen zoomed in slightly on the shape, revealing him to be none other than his First Officer.

One thing that Kirk found odd was the pace at which Spock was walking. His First Officer _never_ walked that slow, and while he'd always walked with perfect posture he'd _never_ walked that rigidly.

Everyone in the room watched with cat-like eyes as the Spock on screen walked a few more feet, twitched slightly, and became like a statue, staring out into nothing.

_What the hell?_ Kirk thought scarily to himself. It was almost like something out of one of those old Terran horror movies. But what was even scarier than that was that the time in the bottom left hand corner had started to change. It had started to move forward rapidly, indicating that the holovid was fast forwarding. Kirk watched in terrified fascination as Spock literally just stood there, twitching every now and again, for almost two hours! When the holovid had finally started playing in normal time again, the time was now 0307 hours.

The scene that presented itself next, _no one _was prepared for.

Anton Mitchell, Kirk assumed from the abundance of tattoos littered all over his body, came walking from across the opposite end of the alleyway. There were a few words spoken from the man, but Kirk couldn't hear anything. _I thought these things had sound capabilities? _He thought errantly as he continued watching the man seemingly question Spock on screen. He waited for Spock's mouth to move in reply, but he hadn't mouthed a word, he just continued to stand there, staring into nothingness. Kirk could just make out the Vulcan's eyes, and they were the epitome of blackness. Far blacker than he had ever seen them before. They held none of the warmth, or light mirth that was usually there just for him.

Anton waved his hands in front of Spock's face, obviously trying to gauge a reaction, though it was unsuccessful.

He then went to place his hand on the Vulcan's chest in an attempt to push him slightly to coerce some kind of reaction. Kirk couldn't help the deep seeded protectiveness over his friend that the gesture elicited. How dare this guy touch Spock? Had he not learned his lesson the first time?

However he had no time to ponder his surprising reaction, because this…this is where everything went to hell in a hand-basket.

Anton had barely placed his tattooed hand on Spock's chest, when the Vulcan abruptly grabbed his wrist and forced his entire arm back at a wickedly awkward angle. There was no doubt that the man's arm had been broken judging by the odd shape now protruding out of his elbow. Spock then brought his left knee up to connect with the man's jaw, but it didn't end there. With superhuman strength, Spock hoisted the man up, and threw him unceremoniously up against the walls of the alleyway. If there had been sound, he did not doubt he would've heard a sickening crack…several times.

He watched with an open mouth as his First Officer, his _friend, _slowly walked up to the man who was now huddled up in a fetal position on the ground amongst the rubble, his good arm raised meekly in front of him, begging silently for Spock to stop his assault. However, Spock just continued to move towards him slowly, and emotionlessly. He watched in shock as the half-Vulcan bent down until he was eye level with Anton. He watched as he leaned in almost seductively, and grasped the man's head in his hands.

Kirk wanted to shut his eyes; wanted to pretend that he wasn't watching this at all, but he couldn't look away. So, he continued to watch as Spock twisted Anton's head in his hands. As if that wasn't shocking enough, the next thing that happened would certainly be.

The entire audience in the room, including Kirk, gasped appallingly as Anton's head was horrifically separated from his body. Spock had decapitated him with his bare hands without a second thought.

"_Impossible…"_ He barely heard Spock whisper dazedly from beside him. Kirk turned to him and was taken aback by the expression on the Vulcan's face, He was afraid. Kirk had seen Spock show anger; he had even seen heartbreak and grief from the time on the transporter pad when Spock had just lost his mother, but he had never witnessed fear.

Kirk searched his mind for something to say, _anything_ to break that emotion from Spock's face. To see it there was unsettling. However, Kirk found he could not utter a single word. Deep in his chest, his own personal version of fear had begun to take hold of him. For there it was, plain as day on the screen in front of everyone.

Spock himself murdering this man. Hell, Spock had admitted to him and Bones that there was a possibility he could have committed this unspeakable act! Was there?

Kirk mulled the conversation over in his head trying to search for an explanation. A reason why Spock would do this. He couldn't. It didn't matter what that camera saw…Spock could _not_ have done this willingly. The mere idea of it was inconceivable, and he felt ashamed for even considering his friend might be guilty.

_Get a hold of yourself Kirk. It's Spock for fuck's sake…Spock wouldn't do this…he couldn't do this!_ Kirk convinced himself firmly. The trickle of doubt that had taken root in him instantly vanished, but the fear remained, and the shame. The shame of doubting a friend; even if it was just for a few seconds. It felt like an unforgiveable betrayal.

He didn't give a shit what that holovid showed. This was the same man who was ready to die in a volcano barely seven months ago to save a people he didn't even know! He didn't give a shit what _evidence_ these bastards claimed to have…Spock was innocent. There had to be an explanation.

"Order! I call order in this Court!" Komack bellowed over the chaos that had erupted in the Chamber, his gavel pounded relentlessly on the surface of the table.

"Commander Spock, do you deny that the person in the surveillance footage is you?" he inquired in a clipped tone over everyone's chaotic chatter. The question alone provoked immediate silence in the room. They all wanted to hear this.

For the first time since the trial began, Spock didn't have an answer. In fact, the half-Vulcan remained staring at the empty space where the holovid had played. His gaze transfixed on an invisible target. Kirk wished he could reach out and touch his friend, if only to reassure him, to let him know that he—James Kirk—still believed in his innocence. Instead he settled for a slight cough to get his friend's attention. Spock blinked a couple of times as if he had been in a daze. He probably had been.

"…While the assailant in the holovid, for all intensive purposes is—is me physically, I must digress that that cannot be me." Spock defended confidently. Kirk felt a swell of hope. Vulcans didn't lie, and his friend sounded so poised, even the fearful expression from earlier was gone…or…properly masked now.

Covington snorted loudly, causing Spock and Kirk to regard him coldly. Admiral Komack ignored Covington as he continued.

"Then can you explain to this tribunal why we have two Starfleet officers, and one civilian placing you at the scene? Not to mention that our cameras have identified the suspect's identity to in fact be you by use of facial recognition technology?"

_Shit shit shit, _Kirk berated internally as he clenched his eyes shut minutely before opening them again.

"You misunderstand admiral. I am not denying the fact that I was present at the time that this criminal act commenced. I am merely pointing out that I was not myself mentally." Spock clarified, inside Kirk swore.

_Goddamnit Spock, what are you doing? _His blue eyes widened as he inclined his head to glare at the Vulcan who was still staring straight ahead, refusing to look at him. 

"We've already been over this, you had a medical examination, nothing abnormal was found." Admiral Cartwright pointed out lazily.

"I am aware of the results of the medical examination admiral. However, I have already stated before that I have no recollection of these events. Amnesia among Vulcans is extremely rare, almost non-existent. Therefore I must conclude that a third party must be involved. I must also request that a Vulcan Healer be sent to examine my mind." Spock argued. Conspiracy. That's what Spock was hinting at here. Again the already uneasy audience began muttering to themselves.

"The brain scans showed no results of amnesia Commander, we only have your word to go on that you don't _remember_ what happened, and as for your request for a Vulcan Healer to…to _read_ your mind? You can't honestly expect this court to believe any telepath in regards to this case. Whatever a Vulcan Healer finds…it is only _their_ word. It is not factual, hard evidence. We would not be able to prove whether the healer in question was lying, as you seem to be so adept at." Cartwright accused, eyes narrowing.

"Vulcans do not lie admiral, and as Vulcan citizen, I request to see a Vulcan Healer." Spock almost seethed…almost.

"Everyone can lie _Commander_, and even if that were true, you are not Vulcan, Commander, you are only half-Vulcan, and something tells me that the other half of you…the _human_ half…is very capable of lying." He rebutted. Inside Kirk fumed dangerously at the insult as he searched his friend for any sort of emotional reaction at the bigoted remark, but aside from a slight narrowing of the eyes, Spock gave no hints that the comment bothered him. It did bother Kirk though, exceedingly so, and it bothered him that they were denying him his own rights as a Vulcan.

"Look, if Spock says he doesn't remember, then he doesn't remember! And he's got the damn right to see a doctor of his own people!" Kirk defended angrily.

"Captain Kirk, this Council asks you again to please—," but Kirk had had enough.

"No! I'm real sick and tired of how one-sided this all is! Have you all forgotten what Spock did to save your asses when _John Harrison_ was let loose on the Federation, and Admiral Marcus turned out to be a traitor, hell bent on starting a war with the Klingons?!" Kirk bellowed. A few gasps came from the audience, but Kirk ignored them.

"Jim…" Spock started, but was waved down by Kirk.

"No Spock, let me say this. Have you all forgotten about the Narada incident? Nero? Actually, forget about all that—,"

"Captain—," Admiral Komack tried to cut in.

"What about everything else he's done for Starfleet? Spock has done nothing but spit blood and loyalty for the Federation, and you're all ready to stone him in the street!?"

"CAPTAIN!" Komack roared, finally losing his patience. Kirk became silent. He was still fuming, but he kept himself under control. The other admirals in the room were staring openly at him, shock obvious on their faces at his outburst.

"That. Will. Be. Enough." Komack furthered through gritted teeth. Kirk sighed in frustration and caught Spock's eye. The half-Vulcan was regarding him sympathetically, yet another small show of emotion. And there was something else there too, but Kirk couldn't put his finger on it.

"This Council does not deny, nor does it discredit all that Commander Spock has done for this Federation. That being said, Commander Spock's previous actions in the service of the Federation do not erase the fact that he has been accused of Murder in the First Degree, and it also does not erase the evidence that has been presented here today against him. Admiral Cartwright is correct. While the testimony of a Vulcan Healer might be accepted on New Vulcan, it is not admissible evidence here—," Komack went on to explain.

"I understand the evidence is overwhelming. I understand what this….what this looks like, but there _has_ to be another explanation! You can't tell me that you don't find this suspicious!" Kirk supplied desperately.

"I agree with the Captain, something about this whole thing smells rotten." Conroy added. Kirk witnessed Barnett murmur in agreement, and for the first time today…Kirk felt a tiny slice of optimism.

"For the love of God! I thought this was a Hearing?" Convington shouted suddenly. "Not a stroll down memory lane!" Oddly enough, Admiral Cartwright glared at Covington icily, but the other man didn't notice him doing so.

"This is a man's life we're talking about admiral. It's not something to be taken lightly." Barnett chastised. Suddenly Covington was fuming.

"Oh? And what about Anton Mitchell's life? That can be taken light as a feather huh?"

"Admiral! This is highly inappropriate" Komack scolded, looking scandalized.

"All the evidence has been presented! The witnesses—questioned! I demand justice!" He roared once more, his face red with rage. Kirk was a little shocked at the emotionalism in the admiral's voice. He shared a glance with Spock, who had raised his eyebrows at the outburst, clearly in agreement.

"Admiral Covington, if you don't control yourself, I will have you removed from this Courtroom." Komack declared firmly. Covington looked as if he wanted to say more, but he held his tongue as he finally caught Cartwright's icy glare.

"However, the admiral is correct, all the evidence has been presented, and all testimony has been heard, and I believe we've heard what we needed to from Commander Spock. This Council will adjourn for deliberations. We will all convene back here in exactly three hours to give a verdict, and, if necessary, to carry out sentencing." Komack ordered and then pointed to

Spock, "take him back to his cell."

((oOo))

"Well? How did it go?" Bones quavered as Kirk shuffled furiously out of the Council Chamber. Uhura was right next to the Doctor, her eye's searching Kirk's, desperate for answers.

"Well…it's still _going_ so-to-speak. We're 'sposed to be back here in three hours. They'll have a verdict then." Kirk confessed irately, his fists clenched at his sides. Uhura's chocolate eyes moved from Kirk's and over his shoulder as Spock exited the chambers, the full security detail flanking him on either side. She took one look at Spock, and swiftly brushed past Kirk in an attempt to approach him.

"Spock!" She sobbed, obviously wishing to comfort her ex-boyfriend. One of the security officers took one hard look at her and placed his hand firmly out in front of him to stop her.

"You are not permitted to touch the prisoner, nor are you permitted to speak with him." He ordered. Uhura's miserable expression transgressed into one of fury as she prepared to sound off a string of insults no doubt, but Spock's tranquil voice halted her.

"It is okay Nyota, it will not be much longer." He soothed, his eye's engaging her in a silent plea of patience. Uhura pouted slightly, but begrudgingly made her way back over to Kirk and Bones. Kirk would never admit it, but he had been fighting the same exact impulse to haul ass over to Spock and embrace him as well. _Jesus, what the hell is happening to me? _

The three watched Spock be escorted down the hallway and out of sight.

"I still think a _full_ security detail is a little much, I mean…it's not like he's on the most wanted list or anything." Bones scoffed.

Kirk sighed. He could actually understand _why_ the Council found it necessary to go to such extremes, even if he didn't agree with it.

"You didn't see what these guys think Spock actually did…its pretty gruesome stuff Bones. I'm…I'm actually having a pretty hard time with it." Kirk admitted sullenly as he ran his fingers through his hair.

"Are you talking about the footage they say they got on em?" Bones inquired. Uhura's hand shot up.

"Wait a minute…you mean they actually got Spock on camera…_doing_ this?" She exclaimed, shock evident in her voice. Kirk nodded grimly at her. She stood there, waiting. He stared at her dumbly.

"So…what was on it?" She asked expectantly. Kirk and Bones glanced warily at one another. He wasn't sure that Spock would approve…

"James T. Kirk…you tell me what was on that holovid, or there's going to be another murder scene right here in this hallway." She threatened, her eyes narrowed into slits. It didn't matter whether Spock approved or not of invading his privacy, Kirk definitely didn't want to be on the shit end of Nyota Uhura's wrath.

"Well…there's no good way to put this so I'm just gonna lay it out there." Kirk pointed out. "It's definitely Spock, all facial recognition scanners, not to mention witnesses, say it's him." Uhura's face fell at the revelation.

"But there's something suspicious about it. For one thing, Spock clearly stated that he doesn't remember anything. And if you ask me, the Spock I saw on the holovid didn't act at all like the Spock we know. It was as if…as if he was possessed or something. Like he wasn't even aware of what was going on around him." Kirk relayed. Uhura looked fearful, but Bones still looked at Jim expectantly.

"So what happened in the video? What did he do to this Mitchells guy?" He asked impatiently. Kirk took a deep breath and relayed the events of the trial as they led up to the holovid. When he informed them of their friend's vicious attack on Mitchells, horror and shock overcame their features.

"De…decapitated him?" Bones actually stuttered, clearly unable to believe it. Kirk nodded sullenly.

"Yeah, it was pretty bad."

Bones' eyes widened.

"Pretty bad? This isn't just _pretty bad_ Jim…this is royally fucked up is what it is! There's no way Spock comes back from this…Starfleet is gonna find the nearest tree and hang him from it before the day is over." Bones hollered, making Jim wince uncomfortably.

"Jesus Bones! Lighten up would ya?" He exclaimed, not ready to confront this issue, but the man couldn't be thwarted.

"I'm serious Jim. They've already got their minds made up—," he declared.

"The hearing is barely over!" Kirk rebutted loudly as Uhura made to sit dejectedly back down on the bench, her eyes lost in thought.

"Don't you think it's odd that the Council pretty much bent over, ass backwards, to get this trial done an over with!" Bones pointed out in a matter-of-fact tone. Kirk had his mouth open, but no words came out. He didn't have anything to say to that. Bones was right. Kirk knew before he had even said anything…he just didn't want to believe it. _It's Marcus all over again, _Kirk thought grimly to himself.

"I tried to tell them Bones, I tried to tell them that Spock just couldn't be capable of doing what they think he did. I really did! I even tried to get them to pull you in there Uhura, you know? As a character reference, but they weren't having it! They won't even let a Vulcan Healer come here to examine him! Said that whatever they find…it wouldn't be admissible! I mean…what the fuck kind of bullshit is that?!" He exploded. Sarek came to mind, and it pissed him off even more. If the son of a bitch was here, maybe he could've swayed their decision on that, but he wasn't.

Bones grasped his chin with his fingers and started pacing. Had he not chastised Kirk for doing the same thing not too long ago?

"And that's another thing Jim! Since you're talking about healers…I don't like the fact that I wasn't pulled in to at least _help_ with his medical exam. I am his Doctor after all! They should've consulted with me!"

"It's probably because you're involved personally Len." Uhura tried to clarify, but Bones waved her down.

"No I get that Uhura, but they should've at least consulted me. Since Spock is half human, his physiology is very unique. And not only that, but he's the only half human, half Vulcan in existence, which means that most of what we know about his biology has either been documented by me, or by Vulcan healers he's seen in the past. If they won't let him see a Vulcan Healer, they could've at least come to me for a fucking opinion." He argued heatedly.

Kirk frowned, and tried to shake the cold chill crawling up his spine again.

_Therefore, I must conclude that a third party is involved, _Spock's earlier nod to a possible conspiracy came back full force.

"The more I think about it, the more it sounds like a set up to me." Kirk concluded suspiciously, causing Uhura to glance up at him warily.

"But…but who would do that? And why Spock?" She asked shakily, as if she was afraid of the answer. Kirk searched his brain for one, but he came back with nothing. The truth was, he had absolutely _no idea_ who would have motivation to frame Spock. The Vulcan practically fell over himself to obey every rule. Every regulation. When Kirk had first met him, he'd taken the Vulcan for an uppity bastard who was too proud for his own good. But now that he knew him. _Really_ knew him. There couldn't be anything further from the truth. When it came right down to it, there wasn't a more beautiful and compassionate soul out there! _And—when the hell did I start thinking of Spock as beautiful?_

Kirk quickly pushed the thought away as he looked to Uhura.

"I don't know, but whoever it was…they're good. Like I said, that was Spock in that holovid. So whoever set him up obviously was very smart to be able to get him to commit an actual murder. I mean…we're talking about taking control of someone, and making them _do_ whatever you want." Kirk stated gravely. Uhura nodded to herself, and averted her gaze to the ground, obviously deep in thought about something.

"Jim, I don't even think that kind of technology exists, I mean…according to the medical exam that I've been looking at, there isn't any sign of someone trying to tamper with Spock." Bones argued before he narrowed his eyes. "Then again, I'm not so sure it was a _proper_ medical exam either. I don't even think Spock remembers it does he?"

Kirk shook his head sullenly.

"Figures." Bones sighed.

"This can't be happening." Uhura muttered to herself. Kirk started to move towards her to offer her comfort, but the Doctor in McCoy was faster.

"Come on now Darlin' Jim's right, the hearin' ain't over yet." He tried to encourage her in as southern a damn accent as he'd ever heard from the man.

"Listen Nyota, not everyone in there was against Spock…he's got some admiral's on his side. Admiral Conroy and Admiral Barnett for one thing, and I know a few others looked like they thought it was all bullshit as well." Kirk soothed as he sat down next to her, trying just as much to convince himself that everything would work out.

There was an awkward silence that settled over the group. Bones was finally the one to break it.

"Well, I don't know about you two, but I can't sit here for three hours, or I'll go out of my mind. Just this damn hallway is depressing. Come on; let's go get something to eat." Kirk glared up at Bones with wide eyes.

"How can you _even think_ about eating right now?

Bones glared right back. "Well, excuse the hell out of me Jim! I know for a fact you haven't eaten anything today, and you didn't eat yesterday either, and the day before that you just pittled! You need to eat something!" Kirk knew he was right, and that starving himself wasn't going to do him or Spock any favors. But every time he thought of Spock hand-cuffed and sitting in a cold cell, his appetite just went down the toilet.

"I'm not hungry Bones. You go on ahead." He muttered dejectedly as he averted his gaze.

"I didn't ask if you were hungry. I'm saying that as your Doctor—you need to eat."

"And I'm telling you I'm. Not. Hungry." Kirk retorted through gritted teeth, his temper threatening to get the better of him again. He was in no mood for McCoy's motherly antics.

"So are you just going to sit here for three hours then? Staring at the wall?" He fired back as he crossed his arms over his chest. Kirk looked at him evenly, his eyes stone-cold.

"Yes. I am."

Uhura gave him a thoughtful look and opened her mouth to say something, but reconsidered. He half expected Bones to go thundering off, but instead the older man sighed and plumped down next to him on the bench, clearly resigned to sitting there with him until they brought Spock back.

"Thanks Bones." Kirk muttered with a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Don't thank me Jim. Obviously the hobgoblin means a lot to you if you're willing to forego a good meal." He felt more than saw Uhura shift uneasily next to him, but she didn't comment.

_You have no idea Bones._

**Let me know what ya'll think! I'll have the next post soon! **


	5. What the Water Gave Me

**A.N. Thank you again to those that reviewed! And thank you to my lovely beta, Fanghoul for being so quick and concise with helping me! You are awesome! Now, before I start, there are a couple of things I wanted to address that were brought to my attention. Firstly was about the way Spock was treated by Starfleet and how nothing was done about it or that it was even addressed by Jim. Being so young, I tried to write Jim this way, which is why I had him react the way he did (you know...all dramatic :) ) Because, despite STID...he's still very young, and I don't think he would handle this like TOS Kirk would. They are soooo different. I did try to hint around that McCoy and him had indeed complained, several times. I just didn't write a chapter on it, I kind of just glossed over it which is my fault. I should have wrote something more on that. Being that Starfleet is corrupt (though I'm not telling you exactly who yet) I didn't think it very OOC for them to act this way towards him. It's not explained just how high up this corruption goes, so anyone is game at this point. Also, as for Jim's reaction to the murder, I do think he feels for the victim...it's just that Spock is more important to him in that moment. Being that Vulcan was destroyed gave me a lot of room to play with _Starfleet abusing prisoner rights_ when it comes to Spock. They are so wrapped up in rebuilding their own world that I assumed it would be real easy for Spock's entire case to go unnoticed by them given how quickly I had it escalate. **

**Those questions were very good questions, and perhaps if I rewrite this...I will try to be more detailed on those aspects. Writing a trial is a pain and I tried to do it the best I could without dragging the story out too much. Hopefully I answered some questions...and thank you SAKURAMINAMINO for bringing these issues to my attention! I always value everyone's opinions!**

**As for this chapter, I based the title of the song What the Water Gave Me, by Florence and the Machine. I feel that lyrics capture Spock's feelings in this to a T. There are no warnings to be wary except for language. PLEASE READ THE END NOTES OF THIS CHAPTER! It has to do greatly with the rest of the story. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own star trek...I just like torturing their characters. **

Chapter 5:

What the Water Gave Me

Two point six hours. That's how long Spock had been sitting in his cell, awaiting to be escorted back to the Courtroom, where he would receive his verdict. In the entirety of that time, Spock had remained silent and still. To anyone who might have observed him, it would appear as if he were simply meditating. However, given the circumstances he found himself in, the mere thought of even _considering_ meditation was out of the question. His mind, at the moment, was a jumble of chaos. It did not matter how hard he tried, he could not rid his mind of the image of him ripping the head off Anton Mitchells. To think that he was capable of such an act… it left him feeling disturbed, and unsettled.

_And the look on Jim's face when he saw what I had done…_

Spock shut his eyes tightly as he pondered what his captain probably thought of him right now. Yes, he had defended him, even after that vile footage had been shown, but Spock wondered how much of that defense had been given purely on impulse. He was quite certain that once Jim took the requisite time to analyze the footage he had seen…that he would surely change his mind. He would see him as a murderer. And was he not?

_That cannot have been me. I would never commit something so illogical, so barbaric._

These were the words he had been repeating over and over in his head. To convince himself that what he had seen—could not be true. However, he was finding the plight unsuccessful. Hadn't his own father informed him years ago that emotions ran deep within his race? Wasn't it a known fact that Vulcans had once been a very violent and emotional race? Was it really so difficult to grasp the idea that he could very well be capable of murder? _No, _he thought firmly, _Vulcans do not murder, it is illogical. It is immoral. _It was not long before another voice crept into his mind. A voice that always lingered with him, doubting him, and making sure to always keep him doubtful.

_But __**you**__ are half human…humans murder, they are illogically cruel. You, you are half human._

_ No. No they are not… not all of them. Jim is not these things. Jim is a good person, he is never cruel. Jim believes in me. _He argued, yet the doubt still lingered. Could he believe in himself?

He thought back to his memories of when he had first become coherent in the holding cell. He had felt like he had been violated in some way. The exhaustion he felt from a mental aspect was overwhelming, and left him feeling as if his brain had been ripped in two. He knew his telepathic shields had been shattered, he just could not discern why, or to what purpose. He attempted yet again to recall just what exactly transpired during his unexplained bout of amnesia, but every time he broached his brain on the subject, he was met with a faint recollection of pain, pressure, and an alarming sense of helplessness like he had never felt before.

The problem, he knew, could be solved if only he could meet with a Vulcan Healer. He or she would be able to perform a mind-meld, and through that, determine what was causing the amnesia. Was it a mental illness? Or was it something else? Something decidedly more insidious?

Alas, he would never know because Starfleet obviously would not permit it as credible evidence in his case. If only he could converse with his father. Certainly he would know what to do. He would be able to convince the Council to allow him this basic Vulcan right.

Spock probed the bond in his mind linking him to Sarek, and just like the last five times he had done so, he was met with only silence.

He sighed.

If the victim had been Vulcan, he would have been permitted to see a Healer, perhaps even extradited to New Vulcan. He was certain of it. However, the victim was human, not Vulcan.

He closed his eyes for the briefest of moments in an attempt to calm his mind through a series of basic breathing exercises. He wished nothing more than to cleanse himself of the violent murder he had just witnessed carried out by his own hands. Opening his eyes, he glanced down at his hands. He could not help but be repulsed by the sight of them. These hands—these _very _hands—had taken a life. Had murdered in cold blood.

His attempt, he realized, was turning futile. So instead, he turned his thoughts back to Jim again. The thought of Jim's face as it ghosted through his mind gave him a sense of tranquility, even if he had no right to feel such a thing in regards to the man who probably believed him a murderer by now.

A loud thud on the wall outside his cell brought him out of his musings. Spock peered up and directly ahead at the security officer who so ungracefully had sought to gather his attention. There was no expression on the man's face as he evaluated the Vulcan, and in exactly three seconds, five more officers joined him.

"We're here to take you back to the Council Chamber. You know how this works, stand up and keep your hands down, no sudden movements." The officer dictated with an even stare. He resisted the urge to insist that he did not need to be told directions twice. As his wrists were still tightly encased in the metal cuffs, there was not any place for him to place his hands, except directly in front of him. But he did not think it prudent to mention this fact to the men.

Doing as he was directed, Spock stood up, straightened himself out, and watched impassively as the now-satisfied officer keyed in a code on the small digital padlock outside his cell, which caused the glowing transmission nodes of the security field to darken. Just as before, three of the six men made to stand directly behind him while the other three maintained a strategic space in front of him. All together, the seven of them made their way out of the cell, down the hall, up the turbo-lift, and outside to the Federation Council building where his life hung in the balance.

Upon his arrival, Spock noted that Jim, Dr. McCoy, and Nyota were still in attendance in front of the Chamber doors. He could not be certain if they had been there the entire time, or had only just recently returned from an unspecified location.

They had been seated on an isolated bench conversing in hushed voices when he appeared, and upon noticing him, all three shot up off the bench. Jim, to his utter shock, smiled warmly at him. His heart skipped a few beats at the unexpected action. He had been so certain that Jim would have reconsidered his innocence, and thereby want nothing to do with him. But judging by the reassuring smile on his face as he gazed at Spock, he obviously was still on his side. Just the mere thought of that sent a flutter through Spock's rapidly beating heart. Despite what he had seen on the surveillance footage, Jim still believed in him.

Nyota, who had stood up next to Jim upon noticing his arrival, also gave him an encouraging smile, and, despite their parting of ways, he was grateful she still cared about him enough to be here in support. He would have done the same thing for her. The Doctor, he noted, was the only one of the three _not_ smiling at him, which was not surprising. Dr. McCoy rarely smiled… especially at him.

He nodded once to the doctor who returned the gesture, albeit contritely. He then repeated the action to Nyota, and finally his eyes rested on Jim's, where he let them linger. It was so effortless to get swallowed up by the piercing blueness attributed to them. Ever since he had seen the life leave those eyes on the engineering deck seven months ago, Spock was reluctant to admit that he had an illogical, growing obsession for them.

The security officers marched him straight past his friends, and into the chamber. Jim, he noted, remained a few paces behind him, his concern and worry for Spock wafting off of him. Everyone who had been at his Hearing previously was present again in the room. Spock spared a glance at the admirals who were seated to the left. Admiral Covington was once again among those gathered, and he was currently glaring at Spock coldly, his lips pressed thinly together. This was unsurprising, and Spock felt an errant urge to return the icy glare. It took all his self control to suppress it. It would not do well to show emotions right now when he was on trial for his life.

Spock finally tore his gaze up to the Federation Council seated at the high table in front of him as the officers continued to lead him to the podium. Spock studied their faces. The majority wore impassive expressions, except for Admiral Conroy—who appeared stricken. Spock felt an odd constriction around his chest at the remorseful expression the man exhibited. A look like that could only mean that whatever the Council had decided, it did not bode well for Spock.

Permitting himself a small exhalation of air, Spock straightened up as much as his body would allow, and held his head high as he met the eyes of Admiral Komack, and awaited his verdict.

"This session has come back to order. The reading of the verdict will commence." He declared, his eyes sweeping the room until they came to rest on Spock. "S'chn T'gai Spock—,"

Spock ignored how the human desecrated the pronunciation of his first name.

"After much deliberation, and a vote of six to two, this Council has found you _guilty _of Murder in the First Degree of one, Anton Mitchells."

Spock illogically felt like he had been submerged in ice. _Logically_, Spock knew that the Council would not have arrived at any other verdict. The evidence was all there. All the pieces fit, despite the fact that Spock still did not believe himself capable of such an act. Yet, a small part of him; his human hal**f****,** he surmised, had been holding on to a thin shred of hope. Hope that they would have allowed him to see a Vulcan Healer, even if it would not have been admissible; he still yearned to know what had gone wrong. Why he had done this unspeakable act. He had hoped for his innocence.

The appalled, stunned voice of James Kirk boomed across the room.

"WHAT?! You all can't be serious! I demand a retrial!"

Spock flinched at the raw emotion behind his words. Jim was upset. Exceedingly so. Admiral Komack narrowed his eyes at the captain.

"You do not have the authority, nor the power to make such demands Captain Kirk. This verdict will stand." He stated plainly and with finality.

Spock watched numbly as a menacing Kirk stormed up to the high table, his hand pointed angrily out in front of him. While it was known that Vulcans were touch telepaths, sometimes they were able to feel the emotions of those around them given that they knew the person well, and that the emotion was powerful enough. Right now, Spock had to suppress yet another wince at the pure fury that was pouring off of his captain in waves.

"THIS VERDICT IS BULLSHIT, AND YOU KNOW IT! THIS WHOLE TRIAL HAS BEEN A FUCKING SHAM!" Jim bellowed, completely red-faced as he waved his hands accusingly at them. Normally, Spock would have told his friend that he was being illogical and over emotional, but for the first time ever, he found he could not speak. He could not find the strength to. It was as if he was watching his life from the outside, almost like a dream.

"Captain Kirk! You will _cease_ this behavior, and regain your composure, or I will have you removed from this courtroom!" Admiral Komack threatened as he made to stand up, and assert his authority.

"This can't be your decision! It's—I mean—It's _SPOCK_ for fuck's sake!" He retorted wildly, completely ignoring Komack's previous order. Spock watched as Komack caught the eyes of one of the security officers, and motioned him to Jim who was becoming increasingly angrier by the second. He could not let his friend be charged with Contempt of Court because of him. He would not allow it.

"Capt—_Jim_… please." He beseeched softly. The effect was immediate. Jim instantly silenced himself as he rounded to face Spock; his stark blue eyes overcome with grief and regret. Spock noted offhandedly that Komack had raised his hand to halt the security officer, who had thusly been making his way over to Jim. _As if one security officer would have been sufficient to overtake James T. Kirk in the first place, _he inwardly snorted.

Right about that time, the main chamber doors opened, and through it came Dr. McCoy and Nyota. Spock could only assume that the very audible shouts exhibited by his captain could be heard out in the hallway, and the two had forced their way in to investigate what all the commotion was about. Spock locked his dark eyes with Nyota's, and found himself trembling internally at the overwhelming fear exhibited there.

"Those two are not permitted to be in here!" Covington accused as he pointed to Dr. McCoy and Nyota.

Nyota, he noticed with a hint of pride, glared daggers at him, causing the admiral to flinch slightly at the fury in it.

"Ah hell Covington! This trial is as good as over! Let them stay." Admiral Conroy bellowed across the room. Admiral Komack considered Conroy's words for a moment before nodding his head in the affirmative.

"I will permit it in this instance, as long as you exhibit the appropriate behavior that _Captain Kirk_ here obviously lacks." Komack exclaimed disdainfully with a glare in Jim's direction. Dr. McCoy and Nyota shared a small glance before making their way to the front of the room to stand with Jim, who had begun to walk back towards Spock.

However, instead of returning to where he previously had been standing, Jim walked right up next to Spock, and turned so that they were literally standing shoulder to shoulder with one another. His proximity was so close that Spock could smell the pleasant odor of his skin, and he had to resist the primal urge to deeply inhale the scent. To savor it.

"You okay Jim? I'm sure everyone at the Academy could hear you." Dr. McCoy whispered. The concern for his friend was evident in his voice. Jim simply placed his hand out in front of Dr. McCoy's face, signaling that he did not want to speak. Spock could discern why. If his emotions were anything to go off of, the captain was much too aggravated to speak. Dr. McCoy took the hint, and refrained from asking any more questions.

"Now… this Council will move on to the sentencing." Admiral Komack said impassively. Spock did not see the point in hearing his sentence. He knew what the penalty was for First-Degree Murder in Starfleet.

"Mr. Spock, you have hereby been stripped of your rank, and sentenced to life without the possibility of release—,"

"This is fucking BULLSHIT!" came from Jim, who had exploded in anger as soon as the sentence had been read.

"_No_..." came from a stunned Nyota.

"This sentence is to be carried out at a penal colony in the Gamma Quadrant. Its' identity is to remain confidential at this time unless the proper clearance is attained, and presented." He furthered, intentionally ignoring Jim, who was starting to push his way to the high table, two security officers flanking him on either side. Spock wanted to reach out to him, to quell his immense fury, but he was frozen in place. He could not accept that this was actually happening.

"Your transportation to said penal colony will commence at exactly twenty-one hundred hours this evening. This Court is adjourned."

Spock could not explain it, but he felt like someone had started burning him from the inside. He tried to comprehend what this meant for him, and what was going to happen to him now. He stared numbly as the security officers who had flanked Jim now had the furious captain pinned to the ground, a third officer placing the same handcuffs that he himself bore, around his wrists.

The sight of Jim being manhandled by the men caused something within Spock to snap. Unable to stop, he moved rapidly towards them with a snarl. How _dare _they touch his captain in such a way! It was unacceptable!

Ignoring the furious banging of Komack's gavel, and the various shouts from beings around the room yelling for someone to stop him, Spock slammed into the first security officer who was unfortunate enough to be in his way. Easily, the man went crashing to the floor with a hard thud.

Satisfied, Spock rounded on the remaining men who were gaping at him with expressions ranging from shock, all the way to pure terror at the enraged Vulcan before them. He sized up the one who currently had his knee thrust into Jim's back, effectively keeping him on the floor, and tackled him to the floor as well.

There was a sharp sting in his side immediately after that, and Spock realized he'd been stunned. However, his adrenaline had been so high that it wasn't enough to knock him unconscious. It _had_ been enough to knock him down though, and he easily went crashing to the floor seconds later.

Panting heavily from the force of the stun, Spock felt the forceful grips of three security officers hauling him ungracefully to his feet, and away from Jim who still lay on the ground. The expression on the captain's face would haunt him for some time. For there, subdued on the ground, Jim was peering up at him, eyes wide with shock. Just that expression alone was enough for Spock—who had already attempted to resume resisting—to let himself go limp in defeat.

Finding it illogical to resist further, Spock permitted himself to be led out of the room. Away from his friends, away from the man he knew without a doubt now he was in love with, and away from life as he knew it.

((oOo))

Kirk rudely shrugged an arm off his shoulder as he walked out of the holding cell, where security had taken him to _cool off_. Thankfully, Admiral Komack hadn't charged him with Contempt of Court. However, he had a suspecting feeling that that was largely due to Admiral Conroy.

No matter how hard he tried, Kirk couldn't get the feral image of Spock attempting to beat the shit out of those security officers, out of his head. It was the only thing he could see as he sat in that goddamn cell, and right now as he walked down the hallway, it was all he could think of.

Back at the bar, Spock had only attacked because he'd felt threatened, he'd been provoked. Those assholes had pushed him into a corner, and insulted him greatly. Hell, if Spock wouldn't have kicked their asses… he would have done it for him regardless. But this? This was different. Kirk could think of no logical explanation why his usually stoic First Officer would all of a sudden go bat shit crazy… and in front of the _Admiralty_ for fuck's sake! And all because he was being arrested? It just didn't make sense to him.

The longer he waited in the cell, the more pissed off he got about the whole issue. _Why! Why did you have to do that Spock! Now they're really gonna think you're capable of murdering someone! Why couldn't you just keep your cool! _He had screamed internally over and over until security came to release him.

Now, as he walked down the hallway which would lead him back to his friends, he tried his hardest to gather his thoughts. He needed to be clear headed right now, not pondering the enigma that was his Vulcan friend.

Just as he had expected, Bones and Uhura were waiting for him, despondent looks on their faces, especially Uhura.

"You okay Jim?" Bones asked as he instantly made his way over, glaring at the security guards as they watched him proceed.

"As good as I'm gonna be." He answered morosely. Bones sighed in agreement. Kirk brought his attention to Uhura, whose eyes were bloodshot. She'd obviously been crying.

"How are you holding up?" He asked, feeling like a dumbass the moment he asked it. Uhura answered him wordlessly with a diminutive smile that didn't meet her eyes.

He nodded to himself. "Yeah, that's about the same way I feel right about now**,**" he added. He still couldn't believe how things had turned out. He just couldn't fathom that Spock was actually going to prison, nor how easy it was for Starfleet to send him there. Then again…

_Look what Marcus almost did? The guy was a Fleet Admiral and he had no qualms about murdering my entire crew,_ he thought bitterly to himself as a pregnant silence descended upon the trio.

"So, what in the world do we do now Jim?" Bones asked tiredly, breaking the silence.

"Fuck if I know Bones. I'm still trying to wrap my head around this entire shit-storm. And Spock? Spock didn't do himself any fucking favors by losing it back there in front of the Brass—,"

"Spock? What about you Jim! You fucking lost it too! Hell, they threw your ass in a cell for it!" Bones countered. Kirk felt his face redden.

"Well yeah Bones! What'd you expect!? It's a life sentence! A LIFE sentence!" He fumed, the timbre in his voice drawing the attention of various passerbys.

"He was just trying to protect you captain. Those guards were being assholes." Uhura chimed in softly. Kirk glanced at her, but she wouldn't meet his eyes. He spoke anyway.

"Protect me? Why? Why would he do that! I don't need protecting!"

"You don't understand Vulcans captain! They have a different way of handling things than you and I. He—_you_…you just don't understand." Uhura argued passionately, her voice becoming resigned near the end. Kirk raised his eyebrows in genuine confusion. Bones mimicked him. She sighed at their expressions.

"I know you may not know it Kirk, but you mean the world to Spock. He would never freely admit it, but I don't think there is another soul out there for whom Spock cares for more." She revealed as she stared at him. Kirk blushed, and when he realized he was blushing, he blushed even more. Suddenly he felt very awkward.

"I'm pretty sure you rank pretty high on the list Uhura." Kirk offered uneasily, trying to draw the attention away from himself. For a fleeting moment, he didn't think she would answer, and if he hadn't been listening carefully enough, he wouldn't have heard the words she spoke next.

"Not as high as you do."

Kirk blinked at her, not knowing what to say to that. It was Bones who brought him back to reality.

"Well gee, talk about being a third wheel here. I probably didn't even make the damn list to begin with." He teased as he crossed his arms across his chest. Kirk could tell he was uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking, and quite frankly, so was he.

"You know how it is Bones, I only put up with you because you're a damn good Doctor." Kirk jabbed playfully, trying to dispel the awkwardness. Bones raised his eyebrows in a very Spock-like manner, and the gesture made his heart sink.

Uhura had her mouth open to say something more, when Admiral Conroy appeared across the hallway making his way towards them at a hasty pace.

Kirk immediately stood to attention as the older man came to stop a few feet in front of them.

"Captain Kirk." He addressed politely, and then glanced at the other two, waiting for an introduction. Kirk caught on and cleared his throat.

"Admiral Conroy, sir, please allow me to introduce my Chief Medical Officer, Dr. McCoy, and my Chief Communications Officer, Lieutenant Uhura." Kirk said formerly as he gestured to his two friends. Conroy regarded them both politely before bringing his gaze back to Kirk.

"Technically, I could have my Council Chair removed from me for saying this, but I voted against Spock's verdict. I just wanted you to know that captain." He divulged sincerely. This wasn't a surprise to Kirk, he knew from the guy's attitude that he believed Spock was innocent… in the mental capacity at least.

"So then you agree that Spock was set up." Bones insisted. It wasn't a question, but a statement. Conroy glanced behind him cautiously, as if afraid of being overheard. Kirk shared an uneasy glance with Bones and Uhura before Conroy turned back to them and answered in a low voice.

"Yes… I do." He whispered, his voice deadly serious.

"Who?!" Uhura gasped before Kirk could beat her to it. Conroy gestured his hand at her sporadically while glancing behind him again.

"_Keep your voice down_, _you never know who's listening these days_!" He hissed quietly as he motioned them over to a corner. Kirk errantly thought of all the conversations that had taken place in obscure corners over the past five days. "I can't tell you who because I don't know myself, but I've been doing this job a very long time, and something about this whole thing stinks." He remarked once they were out of ear-shot.

"Well you must have some clue as to who might be behind this." Kirk inquired condescendingly. "I mean…_you're on the Federation Council for Christ's sake_!" He exclaimed in a hushed, but forceful tone. Conroy stared at him evenly.

"I assure you, I don't captain, but with everything that happened with the late Admiral Marcus… I think it's safe to say that he might not have been the only bad apple in Starfleet." Conroy concluded. Bones snorted, causing the admiral to glare at him.

"No shit Sherlock. I think we could've come to that conclusion on our own."

"Thank you for that insight Doctor. I just thought you should know that you're not the only ones who think so."

"What we don't know is how far up the ladder this thing goes, and not only that, but if Starfleet _is_ behind it, it's gonna be real hard to prove something like that, if not impossible." Bones added bitterly. Kirk ignored his friend's pessimism.

"That's where you're wrong Bones. I do intend to prove it. I'm not gonna let Spock take the fall for this." Kirk corrected confidently. Bones sighed in defeat. Conroy however, had been regarding the two thoughtfully throughout the whole exchange.

"Your reputation certainly precedes you Captain Kirk. There's been quite a lot of talk about you this past year. _James T. Kirk_, the man who has single-handedly saved the Federation not once… but twice now." Conroy beamed. Normally, Kirk would have welcomed such a compliment from a superior officer—especially one on the Federation Council. However in this case, it only irritated him.

"I didn't single-handedly _save_ the Federation Admiral, my _crew_ also had a lot to do with it, especially my First Officer." He pointed out vehemently, but this only caused Conroy to grin.

"—And that's another thing I've heard about you which is obviously true."

"And what's that?" Bones retorted annoyingly.

"Your undying loyalty to not only your ship, but to your crew as well." Conroy assessed genuinely. Kirk didn't miss the hidden meaning in the words. It wasn't just the crew he was talking about, but Spock in particular.

"Spock isn't just a part of my crew Admiral, he's also my friend… one of my best friends." Kirk clarified with an air of confidence, though he wasn't exactly sure that _friend_ was strong enough a word for what Spock was to him.

"Well, in any case captain, Mr. Spock is lucky to have you as a friend."

Kirk resisted the urge to correct him yet again, for if anyone was _lucky, _it was Kirk. Only now was he realizing just how lucky he'd been to have Spock as a friend.

For a few seconds, no one said anything, making the air feel slightly awkward. Finally, Conroy gasped in remembrance and held his finger up.

"Ah, now I remember what I wanted say when I came looking for you." He exclaimed. Kirk glanced at Bones warily.

"It took a lot of convincing…and by a lot, I do mean an extensive amount." He strung along, causing Kirk to become impatient. "But I was able to convince Admiral Komack to allow the three of you to visit with Mr. Spock before he is transported to… well… you know…" Conroy informed them as his voice trailed off, but it was the best news Kirk had heard all day. He had been so sure that he wouldn't get a chance to see him before they took him.

"But—how did—why would you do that for us?" Uhura questioned, unable to hide the shock in her voice. Conroy regarded her warmly.

"Like I said, I don't agree with the decision the Council made, and I like Spock, always have, the Vulcan's brilliant. But to get right down to it, I can tell that the three of you mean something to him, and I wanted him to get the chance to say a proper goodbye to all of you." He explained, looking directly at Kirk as he said the last part. "Though I will tell you, at first they were just going to allow the captain, but after some decent persuasion, I got him to let you two come along as well." He finished.

"Thank you Admiral Conroy, you… you don't know how much that means to me." Kirk said gratefully.

"Actually, I think I do." Conroy added sadly.

"When can we see him?" Kirk asked anxiously. He knew he had been in the holding cell for at least a couple of hours. How much time would they have with Spock before they took him? He'd thought he'd have more time, but just as the trial had been rushed, so was Spock's departure apparently.

"That's why I came… I can escort you to him, they've already moved him to a more suitable place to accept visitors." He answered.

"Thank you again Admiral. I can't begin to tell you how grateful I am. We all are." Kirk expressed sincerely.

"Save it captain, the way I see it… Starfleet owes you and Mr. Spock that much, now… if you'll follow me?" Conroy requested as he turned and began walking in the other direction. Kirk smiled at his two friends like a kid on Christmas morning, before all three of them went hurriedly after the admiral.

It didn't surprise Kirk that they were led back to the same interrogation room that him and Bones had in before five days ago, which now seemed like a lifetime ago. Then it was Covington leading the way. Kirk felt his blood heat at the thought of Covington. That man had definitely made it to his shit list. And in a big way.

Kirk couldn't help the exuberant feeling of anticipation that settled in his stomach as they paused outside the door, waiting to be granted entrance. Although that same anticipation quickly transpired into despondence, for after this, he had absolutely no idea when he'd see Spock again.

((oOo))

Spock was puzzled as to why they moved him from his cell again, and had him brought back to the interrogation room. He had been under the impression that he would wait in his holding cell until the time came for him to be shuttled off planet, to some unknown location in the Gamma Quadrant.

Spock tried not to think about that, it only caused him to experience emotions that were illogical to experience. Instead, he pondered other things. Things like how was he going to keep Jim out of trouble if he was incarcerated? What was his father going to think when news of his imprisonment reached him? Would he even care? Would he protest Spock's treatment? Demand a re-trial? This time with a Vulcan Healer present? These thoughts, which should have been his top priority, were miniscule compared to the one thing that had managed to invade every thought. How was he going to deal with being separated from the one person he had just realized he was hopelessly in love with? His _T'hy'la_?

His feeble attempt at keeping his emotions at bay shattered as he thought of Jim, and he was overcome with despair. Despair at possibly never getting to see him again. The very notion made his heart ache.

_Would he even want to see me again? After that barbaric display of violence back in the Courtroom? _For it was in that very moment that Spock had realized how strongly he felt for his captain. No other being could cause him to react that way… save his _T'hy'la._ No one could cause him to behave so illogically in front of the Federation Council.

Just then, the door to his room opened, bringing him out of his despondent ponderings. He raised his head—which had been lowered in thought—to identify who had entered the room. _Surely it's not that time yet… _Spock thought as a tiny trickle of anxiety gripped at his chest. Quickly he checked his internal clock, and almost sighed in relief. It was not time for him to depart, but anyone could have changed the flight schedule.

Spock let out an audible gasp as his eyes rested on Admiral Conroy from the trial, Dr. McCoy, Nyota, and his Jim bustle through the door. _His Jim._

Spock, who had already resigned himself to the fact that he would never see his friends, nor his _T'hy'la_—for that's what Spock realized he was—again. Immediately he rose out of his chair, prompting a security officer to move instinctively towards him. Instantly Admiral Conroy's hand shot up in a halting gesture.

"That won't be necessary ensign, and neither will those. Please remove them." Admiral Conroy ordered as he indicated to the metal cuffs around Spock's wrists. The officer regarded him tentatively.

"I've got orders from Admiral Covington that he is to remain in his restraints, sir." He responded robotically. Conroy narrowed his eyes and glared. Spock took note that Jim was also fixing the man with a glare.

"I'll have you know _ensign_, that I do not answer to Admiral Covington. In point of fact, he answers to me. So unless you would like to be shipped off to the neutral zone by this time tomorrow, I suggest you follow my order." Conroy stated thinly, leaving no room for discussion. Spock admired the man's tact. It reminded him of a certain captain he knew. The officer regarded him cautiously as he struggled to come to a decision.

"…Yes sir." He answered reluctantly. He then walked over to Spock, and motioned for him stand and place his hands out in front of him. Using a coded key, the man scanned it over the restraints, and the cuffs instantly fell away. Spock felt a sudden urge to rub his wrists where the skin was inflamed and raw, but suppressed it. Instead, he peered up to his friends.

"I must say that I had not expected to see any of you again. The sight of you now is most agreeable." He spoke simply, eliciting a slight smirk on Jim's face, and an eye roll from the Doctor.

"Well you can thank the good ol' Admiral Conroy over here; he convinced the man upstairs. Got em' to let us see ya' again before… well…" Dr. McCoy explained as he ran his hand through his hair, obviously not wanting to talk about what was going to take place later tonight. Spock focused again on the admiral.

"Please accept my gratitude Admiral Conroy, for allowing this meeting to take place. I am immeasurably grateful." Spock insisted, but Conroy waved him down.

"It was no trouble Mr. Spock, it's the least I could do." He answered simply before looking around himself, obviously feeling out of place. "I'll just let all of you have a moment to yourselves. I'll be right outside this door, just be sure you mind the time," and with that, Conroy smiled once more at all of them before exiting the room, taking the security officer, albeit begrudgingly, with him. Nyota was the first to make a move.

The door had barely shut when she rushed over and threw her arms around him, encasing him in a desperate hug. On any normal day, he would never have allowed this particular display of emotion. At the moment however, he found he did not care. He returned the embrace, and tried to keep his face impassive as her sorrow for his situation flowed into him from the contact. Jim and Dr. McCoy stood idly back, not wanting to interrupt the tender moment. It wasn't long before a series of quiet sobs could be heard from his shoulder.

Spock reluctantly broke off their embrace to wipe away her tears with his fingers, taking exceptional care into shielding his own grievous emotions from her. "Please do not cry Nyota. I do not want my parting memories to be of you in pain." He pleaded softly. Nyota took his hands in hers and nodded slowly, forcing a smile on her face before slowly backing away from him.

"Don't talk like that Spock, you're going to see her again. You're going to see all of us again. I'm not going to let you take the fall for this." Jim proclaimed firmly as he made to move closer to him. Spock resisted the urge to reach out and cling to him, to touch his skin. To feel it hot beneath his fingers.

"I am afraid that there is nothing you can do Jim. I have been tried, charged, and sentenced. Further involvement on your part could possibly cost you your career. I cannot allow that." Spock pointed out plainly. Jim stared with an open mouth at him.

"Spock! You can't be serious! This is obviously a set up, a frame job! And I intend to find the bastard, or _bastards_ who did it!" Jim countered with a raised voice. Uncharacteristically, Spock let out a heavy sigh as he regarded his friend, causing Dr. McCoy to raise an eyebrow.

"Jim. I implore you to not investigate this further."

Nyota shook her head sadly as she gazed at the floor.

"_Oh Spock_…" She wept softly.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean Spock? Do you honestly think that if we can catch the son of a bitch who did this, that we shouldn't do it? That we should let you rot in whatever—whatever _hell hole_ they're sending you off too? Is that what you're saying?" Jim yelled, causing Spock to inwardly flinch. Dr. McCoy went to stand by him, clearly in agreement with his captain.

"He's right Spock."

"Do you honestly think I'm just gonna sit back and let this happen to you? A lesson in having friends Spock… they don't do that, they don't sit back and do nothing!" He fumed, his irritation coming off of him in waves. It was almost enough to make Spock stagger.

"I am well aware of the proper qualifications, and duties a friendship entails captain, and as you so pointed out, I am doing what a friend should do. I will not let you sacrifice your career, nor your life, for mine." He asserted.

"I can't fucking believe this—," Jim began in stark disbelief.

"Sounds to me Spock like you actually _wanna_ go to prison." Dr. McCoy accused. A trickle of irritation flashed in Spock's eyes as he rounded on the Doctor. As always, he could count on the man to reach an illogical conclusion.

"I can assure you Doctor that I find the aspect of imprisonment highly undesirable. In fact, I am finding it increasingly difficult to continue coping with the aspect that in approximately one point four hours, I will leave this planet and never see any of the people I—I _care _about again." Spock pointed out, stammering slightly on the word '_care'_. It was hard to voice the emotions he was feeling from a lifetime of being brought up in a world where they were forbidden. His heart began to ache at the mournful expression that overcame Jim's features. Seeing such an expression was not something he was amenable to. If he had not been so careless in expressing his emotions…

"Then let me help you Spock. You think it's just us that believe you were set up? Admiral Conroy believes it too." Jim divulged, causing Spock to raise his eyebrows in mild surprise.

"The admiral is convinced that a third party is involved?" He queried. He thought it unusual for such high ranking members of Starfleet to indulge in conspiracy theories.

"Yeah. Yeah he is. He says he was against their decision to convict you, and he thinks Starfleet is corrupted. He thinks that Marcus was just the tip of the iceberg." Kirk affirmed.

"Iceberg, Jim?"

"It's just a phrase, means there's a lot more involved than we originally thought."

"Ah." Spock answered, and for the first time since he had been sentenced, Spock felt a tiny flicker of hope. If Admiral Conroy was on his side, then it was logical to assume that others would be as well, and if Jim was able to have help from higher ranking officials, then it was also logical to assume that his career would not be at such a high risk.

_His career perhaps, but what about his life? _Spock pondered to himself. The hope he had experienced for a fleeting moment faded instantly. He could not allow harm to come to Jim on his behalf.

"While I find it logical that if Admiral Conroy seconds your idea, then others would surely agree with it as well, I still ask that you cease involving yourselves in the matter further." Spock reiterated.

Rolling his eyes vehemently, Jim swore. Becoming increasingly annoyed, Dr. McCoy threw his hands in the air.

"This is like talking to a brick wall!" Dr. McCoy exasperated.

_An illogical statement._

"That's not gonna happen Spock, so you might as well quit trying to convince me otherwise. I've already made up my mind." Jim asserted firmly. An intense fear gripped at his chest as he realized that whatever quest Jim set himself out on, would more than likely get him killed. There mere thought of a world without Jim Kirk in it was terrifying to Spock. Intensely so.

"I _forbid_ you to involve yourself Jim! Do you understand?" Spock actually shouted this time, finding no other way to get the sincerity of his message across. It was something he very rarely did. Jim flinched slightly, and his eyes widened in shock from the outburst. He regarded the Vulcan thoughtfully for a few moments before speaking again.

"Spock… I don't understand. What is bringing this on? Why are you so dead set on refusing help? It's almost like you believe you killed the guy—and yes, yes I know that physically, you might have—but Spock, this is the twenty-third century! There's a shit ton of mental warfare out there, and yet… you just want to go quietly into the night and accept your punishment? What the fuck?" He accused loudly. Dr. McCoy nodded in agreement.

"What the fuck is right Spock."

"If I was framed Jim, then the nature of the frame job suggests that whatever party and/or parties that are involved have a considerable amount of power and resources available to them. Enough as to physically place me at the scene of the crime, and somehow get me to commit murder, and not only were they able to succeed in this endeavor, but they also were able to strip me of my memories. I find it logical to assume that if I was indeed set up, there is more than one person involved." He pointed out to them.

"Okay, we pretty much gathered that much for ourselves Spock—," Dr. McCoy began, but was cut off by Spock who had raised his hand in a gesture to silence him.

"I am not finished Doctor."

Dr. McCoy snorted at his brashness, but Spock ignored him. "While I do find it unacceptable to allow you to risk your careers in apprehending the responsible parties, I find that the risk you will be taking with your own lives to be even more unacceptable. Whoever is behind this, they obviously have no qualms about ending a life, as we have already seen this with the late Anton Mitchells.

"—I'm pretty sure it's someone in Starfleet Spock—," Jim started.

"_Enough!_ I will not allow your fates to come to the same conclusion." He finished sternly before fixing Jim with the softest gaze he could manage.

"Please Jim, I cannot bear the thought of something like that happening to you. If I am to remain in prison, I wish to do so with the knowledge that you—all of you—will remain safe and unharmed." He added as he met the eyes of each of his friends. It was as emotional a statement as he had given in a long time, but he did not know how else to get his point across.

Where before there had been looks of anger at his stubbornness, everyone in the room was now regarding him apathetically.

"You and your goddammed chivalry." Dr. McCoy snorted, trying to ease the depression lingering in the room. Spock looked back to Jim who was staring at him with an unnamed emotion. It was unnerving to Spock that he could not read it. Perhaps the captain had misunderstood him.

"Do you understand what I have just relayed to you Jim?" He inquired. It took a moment for the captain to respond, which was even more unnerving.

"I… I do Spock." He answered quietly. However, that wasn't necessarily an agreement.

Spock inclined his head at the sound of faint arguing coming from the hallway. It was something only his Vulcan ears could pick up and the other three were looking at him confusingly.

"Someone is coming." He stated softly. Seconds later, the door to the room burst open, and all four of them turned their heads to find a full security team bustling inside. Conroy was on their heels heatedly.

"He still has almost an hour! What's the meaning of this?" He bellowed in frustration. Spock felt his heart sink; more unnecessary emotionalism.

_So my flight schedule has been changed. Is nothing going to stay on schedule for me today?_ Spock fretted to himself.

"Due to unforeseen complications, the shuttle taking Mr. Spock has moved ahead of schedule. He will be taken now. I must ask that you all make your exit so the prisoner can be transferred accordingly." One of the officers explained in monotone as they moved towards Spock.

At the news, Nyota flung herself at Spock, wrapping her arms around him desperately. She cried into his neck, her hot tears creating a small river down his skin and onto his shoulder. Spock noted from her rapidly increasing respiratory rate, that she was about to start hyperventilating.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry Spock!" She sobbed. A dreadful sense of grief flooded into him, quickly followed by regret.

He was so lost in the overwhelming emotions she was sending him through their skin-to-skin contact, that he wasn't even aware of the men who had begun to pull her away from him.

After she was removed, she ran to Dr. McCoy, who immediately took her in his arms to emotionally comfort her. The men then turned their attention back to him, and one of them brought out the cuffs. He inwardly winced as the tight, cold feeling of the harsh metal were clasped again against his chaffed wrists. It was at this time that Spock finally turned to Jim.

He half expected the captain to react the way that he had earlier during the trial. He expected Jim to react with an emotional outburst, but instead, Jim had remained stock still and unmoving. Spock errantly wondered if an emotional outburst would have been preferred to this—this closed off stance.

It wasn't until Spock peered into his eyes that he could ascertain to the amount of emotions his friend was currently experiencing. As he continued to stare into Jim's eyes, he began to find himself being swallowed into the emotion that lay there. Anger, sadness, regret… and… something more… something stronger.

"Someone is going to hear about this!" Conroy shouted angrily as he was marched out of the room. Spock assumed to file a complaint. However, the abrupt departure was effective in bringing Spock out of Jim's emotions, which had been consuming him.

"Alright, you know the drill… let's go." An officer ordered blandly. Spock considered not moving at all. He considered planting himself firmly in once place and forcing the security team to haul him out forcibly, but there was no logic in that.

Instead, he allowed them to begin marching him out of the room. He wanted to look at Jim one last time, but he knew if he did, the emotional wall he had erected around himself to keep him composed would shatter. He could not allow that.

They were out in the hallway when the sound of his captain could be heard faintly behind them.

"Wait. _Please_." He pleaded brokenly. The voice of the famous Captain Kirk sounding so devastated was enough to at least halt the security team. This was the tone of a man in defeat, and not even they could deny him their attention.

"… Look, I'm unarmed, and you guys have got me surrounded. Please… _please_ just let me say my goodbyes to him. Just… just give me that at least." He begged, his voice cracking as he did so. The sound of it unsettled Spock. It was not characteristic of Jim at all, and he hated the aching feeling it elicited from him.

The officers turned to one another, obviously considering his request. "Alright, you've got a minute… no tricks Captain Kirk." The one who had shackled him stated firmly as he agreed to the request. Jim looked gratefully at him before slowly walking up to Spock. The two regarded each other for a second before Jim truly surprised him by embracing him in a desperate, fierce hug.

The officers standing around them glanced at each other awkwardly, but said nothing.

Spock felt a wave of strong emotions soar into him from Jim through their link. There was sadness, which he had expected. Guilt? Overwhelmingly so. But what had taken him by such surprise was the intense, mind-blowing feeling of _love_ that surged through and raced throughout his entire being. Spock wished desperately that he could throw his own arms around Jim and hold him closer, but the cuffs kept him from doing so. Instead he inhaled Jim's scent, a faint wisp of oil and pine, and committed it to memory.

Still locked in the bone crushing embrace, Jim whispered into his pointed ear. The warmth from his breath sent a shiver down Spock's spine. "It's been an honor being your friend Spock, and I want you know something." He felt Jim lean away from him, and he couldn't help the way his body subconsciously followed the retreat, obviously protesting the separation. "I want you to know that I would have gone with you. In a heartbeat. I would have gone."

Spock raised his eyebrows bemusedly. Jim thankfully interpreted the gesture.

"Your message? The one you sent me right before all this happened? It was about a trip you wanted to take…" Jim let his voice trail off as sudden realization dawned on Spock. So Jim _had_ indeed read the message.

"I'm sorry I didn't respond to it. I… I didn't actually check _any _of my messages until… until after…" Jim added remorsefully.

"Do not apologize. I should have verbalized my invitation to you, as I had the means to do so." _Except I was afraid you would decline, _went unspoken. "It is unfortunate that this trip will not come to pass, however, it—it pleases me to know you would have answered in the affirmative." Spock said shakily, his emotions threatening to overcome him. Jim smiled at him, but the expression quickly turned into a frown as his blue eyes glistened with what Spock could only assume would turn into tears. Tears for him.

"Spock… I'm—you don't know how sorry I am… sorry that I let this happen…"

"Jim—," Spock began weakly, wanting to assure him that this wasn't his fault, but Jim put up a finger to silence him.

"—And I want you to know that no matter what you say, I'm not giving up on you." He promised with fierce sincerity as he gazed at him with those beautiful, ice-like eyes. Right then, Spock wanted nothing more than to admit the undeniable, passionate love he harbored. It burned within him, making him ache with a longing he had never experienced before. How quaint, that he should be confronted with this now, when it was about to ripped away from him.

He opened his mouth to speak, to reveal to Jim the storm inside him that thundered his name, but the words would not come to him. To admit these feelings now, when neither could act upon them, would be selfish.

If in the instance Jim did love him as much as Spock felt he did from their contact, would it not be cruel to admit he returned these feelings? When neither could act upon them? Would it not be more painful for the Jim to have this knowledge? And be able to do nothing with it?

_No. It would be infinitely better to leave him with the memory of what I am right now… Of… what I was to him. _He decided with dismay.

He lifted his bound hands towards Jim, who was wrinkling his brow with curiosity at the gesture. Certain that the guards would permit him this, he let his fingers grasp Jim's hand in an attempt to express to him what he could not express in words. Through the link, Spock sent waves of loyalty, respect, gratitude, and a deep sense of friendship.

The vibrant golden ray which shined inside of him—his love for Jim—fought and kicked at the doorway of his mind, wanting fervently to push through and into Jim's own thoughts. The warmth and intensity of the ray almost made Spock's shields buckle, but he clamped down hard on them and instead, allowed everything he felt for Jim—minus the more romantic aspects—flow into Jim's own mind. He wanted to anchor those emotions there for all eternity. He did not want Jim to forget.

Jim stumbled slightly at the sudden influx of such powerful emotions, and as he processed them, his eyes widened, and he looked sharply back at him, his mouth open slightly with incomprehension. Given the captain's expression, Spock was afraid that he'd failed in shielding his own emotions from him. That he had admitted what he did not want to admit.

"Okay…time's up." Snapped one of the officers, as he placed his hand on Spock's shoulder to move him along.

"Spock… I… I!" Jim blurted with increasing hysteria, but he couldn't form the words he wanted to say. Spock did not miss the heartbreak in his voice, and he was selfishly grateful that he did not have to witness Jim's tears either. For they would be his undoing.

"It is okay Jim. I have accepted this."

It was lie. He had not accepted this. He protested the very thought of this. His time with Jim had not been long enough, and errantly, he became jealous of his older counterpart, who had obviously had so much more time with his own version of Jim Kirk. It was not fair that he would not get the same in this universe.

Instantly Spock was ashamed that he had felt such petty emotions, especially when they were neither logical, or warranted. He gave Jim a slight quirk of his lips, his own version of a smile, to offer an encouragement he did not feel. Jim smiled back at him, but the smile didn't reach his eyes which were starting to grow moist again. Without a backward glance, Spock resumed his forced march down the hallway. As he neared the end of it, he called out behind him loud enough so that Jim could hear,

"Live long and prosper Jim," _my_ _T'hy'la_.

**A.N So the next chapter is where things start getting dark and graphic in this story. I'm sort of wary about posting it on FF because this site is notorious for blanket deleting stories that contain this subject matter. So, there are a couple of things I'm considering doing and I'd like your opinion on how to proceed. Firstly, I could begin each sexually graphic scene with these babies: XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX...so that you know what's coming. Or, I could simply delete those scenes, and for those that want to read them, can go to my account on Ao3, which doesn't delete stories. However, I strongly feel that these scenes are vital to the story and it's progression. And, in this part of the series...there are a lot of them, so deleting them might leave ya'll with some confusion unless I just rewrite everything, which brings me to my third option, and that is just not continuing this story on FF at all, and instead, just posting to Ao3. I've already loaded this story up with warnings at the very beginning, but I'm still leary about it, so I'd like your thoughts on what I should do next. Please let me know! And thanks for reading! **


	6. Doradus Prime

**WARNINGS! MATURE SEXUAL SITUATIONS HINTED AT/IMPLIED in this chapter. Also language. **

**It is not an actual sex scene, but we do get a little bit of graphic explanation...so be mindful of that please. This chapter is Spock's POV, and I want to thank my betas Fanghoul, and SakuraMinaMino for doing such a lovely job. This is where the story starts to take a decidedly darker turn. I will be posting a fair amount of warnings here on out so please read before you read. I do not wish to offend anyone. **

Chapter 6:

Doradus Prime

Spock walked in silence with his armed escort all the way to Starfleet's shuttle bay. Fortunately, the bay was not exceedingly crowded during his transportation. While it would have made no difference if it had been, Spock took comfort in the fact that only a marginal amount would witness him in this demeaning state. Of the few that did recognize his identity, wide eyes and mouths agape appeared to be the favored expression, whilst they pointed and stared at him. Spock would like to say it did not affect him. He would like to say that, because he was Vulcan, any kind of reaction to a facial expression bore no weight on him, thus making said reaction illogical. He would prefer to say that, he really would.

It was not long before his small group approached a Class-F shuttle craft. Spock deduced that it would in all probability take him to the Starfleet Space Station, _Spacedock,_ which was currently orbiting Earth. Since he was being taken to the Gamma Quadrant, he suspected that upon his arrival to _Spacedock,_ he would then board some varying class of Starship—Hermes class being the likely choice—that would take him to the penal colony…wherever it was.

He still found it unsettling that the Federation even housed _classified_ penal colonies. While he did not serve in Starfleet's Central Bureau of Penology back on Earth, he still was certain that he would have been privy to such knowledge. Now that he was aware, he could not help but be curious as to why Starfleet would keep such informational confidential. To what purpose did it serve?

When they came within ten feet of the craft, a burly, rugged sort of human emerged from it to greet them. Spock deduced him to be the ship's pilot, judging by the attire the man donned. His grey eyes met Spock's own head on where they lingered.

"So you're the murderous Vulcan? I've got to say…I've transported a lot of prisoners in my time, but I've yet to get my hands on a Vulcan prisoner." He admitted animatedly. News of his incarceration had obviously traveled just as quickly as the trial itself. A fact which Spock still felt perturbed about.

Given the amount of time dedicated to his case, Spock found it doubtful that he had been tried thoroughly and efficiently. Human trials, he knew, could take months to carry out. His own trial though had been rushed severely, and for what? Why were so many basic protocols and regulations overlooked? And by the Federation Council, no less?

Perhaps the corruption Jim had hinted at went farther than he had anticipated. And if that were the case…

"Your statement is correct. I am the first Vulcan to be imprisoned by Starfleet." Spock admitted impassively, eliciting a smirk from the pilot. It was true; Spock could not recall any records of a Vulcan being arrested by the Federation. It did not bode well on Spock that in addition to being the first ever Vulcan to turn down the VSA, he was now the first ever to be a convicted criminal. It did not matter how unjust he felt the process had been. He errantly wondered how his father was going to react upon hearing news of his incarceration. Would he agree with Starfleet? Or would he suspect foul play as Jim had done?

He tested their bond again as he had already done so many times before. Just as he expected, he was met with only silence.

"Ha! You say that like it's something to be proud of." The pilot accused sarcastically. Spock quirked his eyebrows. He had inflected no such emotional undertones in his previous statement.

"Negative. I am merely stating a fact; emotion is not relevant to the matter." He countered, causing the man to roll his eyes.

"Whatever—," he shrugged as he turned his attention to the security detail. "Have you got the confirmation orders?" He supplied lazily.

"Yes sir, you'll find all the necessary signatures here." The officer to his left answered as he handed the pilot a PADD. He studied it a few seconds before nodding to himself, and passing it back to the officer.

"Okie-dokes, looks like we're all cleared. You can bring him aboard, this ship's custom fitted for prisoner transport…so make sure he's strapped in tightly. The last thing I need on my record is an escape attempt." He deadpanned as he turned and disappeared around the front of the shuttle, most likely performing pre-flight tests and system checks.

"Move." The officer behind him dictated harshly as he jabbed his hand into the small of Spock's back. The gesture pushed him forward, and in the direction of the shuttle door. Once inside, he was directed to sit in a seat which had leg and chest restraints. His hands were already shackled together, so there was no need to restrain them as well.

The seat's fetters were slightly snug, but Spock did not show any discomfort. After double checking the restraints to make sure they had secured him sufficiently, the majority of the security detail left, leaving only two of them behind to chaperone him inside the shuttle during the flight. Unlike the traditional Class-F shuttle craft, this one contained a barrier which effectively seperated the pilot from the rest of the passengers. Being that it was designed to transport prisoners, the design was logical. For if he did managed to escape, it would prove difficult to get to the front of the ship and commandeer it. Over the ship's communication system, the pilot's rough, disembodied voice filled the air.

"Systems have been checked and cleared. Buckle in folks, she's not the newest ship in the bay." He warned before signing off. Spock felt the rumble of the ship come to life, and a slight vibration coursed through his body. It was fourteen seconds before Spock was certain that they were airborne. The thought was illogical and sentimental, but he wished he had a window to look out of so that he could see his home for the last time.

Then again, had it really ever been his home? Had he ever had a home anywhere?

_The Enterprise…_a small voice supplied within him.

The Enterprise _had_ been his home…that he now knew and understood, and it made him ache. He now realized that it had been his home because Jim had been there, and Jim considered it his own home, his refuge. It was too late, but Spock had now realized that he had built a home there as well…with Jim.

And now both were gone, and it hurt.

Closing his eyes in concentration, Spock instantly pushed his despondent thoughts away. It was illogically painful to ponder them at this moment, and he knew if he continued this trajectory, his emotional control would shatter. He could not allow that to happen. He was Vulcan.

As he had predicted, the shuttle only served to take him to the _Spacedock_, where he would then be transferred to yet another ship, which would be better suited for the voyage. The two security officers who had been with him silently unshackled him, and handed him over to a new security team which had been waiting in the hangar bay. This team, he deduced, had not been expecting him, if the expression on their faces was anything to go off of. He had seen far too many open mouths today.

"Whoa…we're actually transporting a Vulcan? Damn, never thought I'd see the day," one of them voiced in astonishment. Two of the other men murmured in agreement as they scrutinized him further. Spock made no acknowledgment that he had heard them, and kept his eyes straight ahead, his back ramrod straight.

Judging by the idle conversation hosted by the men as they walked, Spock concluded that the ship that would take him to the penal colony was to be an Antares-type ship named _Seeker NCC-512. _Spock studied the horizontal frame of the ship as they approached, and was quick to note the obvious wear and tear on its' hull. It was definitely a seasoned Starship.

Whereas the F-class shuttle on Earth was operated by a one-man crew, this ship had a slightly more complicated crew make-up. Spock was forced to stand quietly as formalities and confirmations were exchanged between his escort and the Commanding Officers of the ship. It wasn't long before he was hustled unceremoniously onboard, and into a holding cell down in the ship's brig, which was unbearably cold. No one bothered to speak to him, and except for the occasional stunned expression at seeing a Vulcan in the brig, Spock was more or less left to himself. This he was grateful for. It meant he could spend more time pondering the image of Jim and their last moment together back in Starfleet's detainment area _without _interruption.

Again and again, he re-played the scene in his head. He mentally watched as Jim reached out to him and embraced his body against his own…The warmth he exhibited as it spread all over Spock, engulfing his senses, had been intoxicating. But the most memorable part had been the precious emotions which Jim had sent through their link. The likes of which had lit a fire in his soul that he had not known existed. Jim had _loved_ him, and he had been too blind to see it. Now, he would not get the chance to experience that love and all its' wonders. To see where it led him.

A globus sensation in his throat brought him out of his musings. He had felt this sensation before back in the engineering deck of the Enterprise, when he had acknowledged that Jim was indeed going to die. It was the precedent to tears. Reminiscing over Jim was supposed to bring him gratification, but instead, it was doing nothing but distressing him. He could not think about this now. Not if he wanted to maintain his composure. Instead, he took a deep breath and attempted to clear his mind for meditation.

On the second day, he was startled out of a meditative trance by the sudden mental presence of his father. While the connection was faint, Spock could make out feelings of shock and something akin to regret coming from Sarek's end. It unsettled him to feel such emotions from his father who was always the epitome of logic in his eyes.

He could not discern actual words through the bond, but he was able to pick up impressions, and right now, the one thing Sarek wished to know above all others was if he was safe and unharmed. Spock's dilemma was…should he be evasive? Or tell his father the truth, for he did not feel safe. He felt vulnerable and weary of what was to come. Was he unharmed? In the physical sense, yes, but mentally? This he did not know.

Settling for the art of evasion, Spock sent a wave of reassurance through the bond to assure Sarek that he was functional. He felt a surge of doubt flow back through. Obviously, he had failed in his endeavor to evade his father.

Utilizing all his mental fortitude, Spock effectively clamped down on the bond in an attempt to block his father out. It was not logical to keep in contact. He did not wish to cause Sarek any more stress after his mother's passing, which had affected his father more deeply than the older Vulcan would ever admit.

By 1015 hours the next day, they had finally reached their destination.

As he had done when leaving Earth, the _Seeker _docked at what he had overheard the varying officers identify as a Starbase (though he was not quite sure of its identity). Upon departing the Starship, Spock was quickly transferred to the hangar bay of the base, and as he stood and waited for whoever would be taking him next, he ascertained from the idle conversation around him that the actual penal colony was on the planet below them. His location at this point in time was apparently the planet's moon. Spock assumed that as with most penal colonies, all transporter capabilities would be disabled, and that he would board another shuttle that would take him down to the planet.

His assumption was right, for eventually two other officers entered the bay and assumed authority over him. It was not a surprise that he boarded yet another F-class shuttle craft; only this time, he did not get a chance to see the pilot who stayed in the cockpit the entire time.

The officers who accompanied him down to the planet were clothed in bulky, Starfleet issued winter wear which suggested arctic temperatures. This was unfortunate as he was improperly dressed for such a climate.

Spock listened idly as they made small talk amongst themselves, yet he made no comments. It was not until he felt the familiar vibrations of the shuttle landing, that one directed their conversation to him. It was the older of the two men, and he sported a metal stud in his left ear.

"Welcome to Doradus Prime." He stated ardently before he leaned closer to Spock as if about to tell a secret. If Spock had not been shackled to the seat, he would have leaned away. Not only was the close proximity uncomfortable, but the human was swimming in the odor of alcohol and sweat. It was repulsive.

"This planet is home to the one prison the Federation don't want nobody to know about, you have my sympathies Vulcan."

Raising his eyebrows, Spock simply stared at the officer, but inside, he was burning with tense anxiety. He had no idea what to expect, and therefore, he was unable predict just what kind of environment awaited him.

A steadfast jolt brought Spock from his musings as the shuttlecraft finally landed. Spock remained still as the two officers began to unlock him from the seat he had been restrained in. One of them, the man who'd spoken to him, busied himself on the PADD he was holding, while the other opened the shuttlecraft door. The wind from outside immediately ripped through the small ship, causing Spock to suppress the innate urge to shiver. It was exceedingly cold. So cold in fact, that Spock surmised the temperature of the planet to be well below freezing. He had expected this. Why else would the two officers in his company be so heavily clad?

As he was hustled off of the ship, Spock was struggling hard to keep his body from shaking. After all, while the two officers were clothed in acceptable winter attire, he was still in a thin, black sleeved shirt and loose trousers. He had not changed since being arrested, and given the lack of denseness to the garments, he might as well have been naked for all the good they did him.

In an attempt to take his mind off the bitter cold, Spock turned his head about and inspected the surrounding area. They appeared to be in some sort of outdoor hangar, which was hardly equipped to deal with a planet exhibiting such frigid characteristics. The snow that continued to fall littered every inch of the ground, making it very difficult to see; even for Vulcan eyes. Spock waited, rather impatiently, to be moved to another _warmer_ destination, but they remained standing just outside the ship.

The two men blew into their gloved hands and hugged themselves tightly. The breath from their exhalations reminded him of the steam that rose from the tea he consumed on a routine basis. Well—_used_ to consume on a routine basis…

"Jesus Christ, you'd think these dipshits would be on time for once. I'm freezing my ass off here!" the one who had informed him of the planet's name so eloquently exclaimed in an irritated tone. His partner nodded in agreement before looking at Spock's clothes sympathetically.

"You think we got an extra coat in the shuttle? I don't know a lot about Vulcans, but I know they aren't as tolerable to the cold." He offered idly to his companion. Right about now, there was nothing Spock wanted more than a coat. The cold was menacing.

"I don't give a shit what Vulcans _do_ and _don't_ tolerate, Saxon. He's not really in a position to make demands." The other fired back with a scowl.

"He's not making a demand! I'm just sayin…it's fuckin' cold out here. We can't have em' killin' over of hypothermia before he's even had a chance to serve his sentence!" The other man, Saxon, replied heatedly, and Spock got the faint inclination that the man's concern over him had little to do with him _serving out his sentence._ If he did not know any better, he would say that Saxon was genuinely concerned for his welfare.

"Look. By the time I go back in there and find one, Doradus' guards will already be here to take him off our hands."

"Fine." Saxon muttered in defeat before glancing at Spock remorsefully. His way of communicating a silent apology. It was the first act of kindness he had received since he left Jim in the hallway, and he idly wondered if there would be more like him in this place.

"See? Here they come now!" The man announced jubilantly as he pointed off into the snowy distance at a group of people walking towards them. As they neared closer, it wasn't lost on Spock that all of them were human. He had expected at least _one _among them to be of another species.

_Classified penal colony indeed. _

"It's about damn time! You guys know what time it is? I've got a schedule to keep ya'know." The officer argued with them as he thrust a PADD at the one in the front. The man who received it was very tall and broad shouldered. His hair was cut in a short, Terran fashion that Nyota had termed a _buzz-cut_, and his face held no expression. He regarded the officer coolly before inspecting the PADD. He then glanced at Spock, and wide grin expanded across his face.

"So this is the famous Commander Spock? I can say with all my brittle heart that I've been looking forward to your arrival." He exuberated with a sickly smile before his lips pursed into a thin line. He was nothing but serious now.

"I'm Warden Brixton, but you will refer to me as Warden Brixton, or Mr. Brixton, am I making myself clear Vulcan?" He spat in disdain.

"Indeed you are Mr. Brixton." Spock replied simply. Brixton's eye's suddenly narrowed and he stepped closer to Spock, who immediately recognized the stance to be threatening. This confused him.

"I've heard about that smart mouth of yours _Vulcan, _and I don't like it. If I were you, I'd keep a tight leash on it." He seethed. Spock raised his eyebrow.

"I do not understand how an intelligent pattern of speaking can be offensive. Furthermore, I do not agree that the placement of a leash on one's mouth is practical, nor applicable." Before he could react, Spock was acutely aware of a brute force connecting with his jaw, quickly followed by another one on the right side of his lower abdomen, right where his heart was. Brixton had struck him.

Spock straightened back up immediately, showing no signs of discomfort. A human would have been on the ground with the intensity of that assault, but Spock was not human. Meeting the hard gaze of the Warden, Spock simply stared emotionlessly at him. Brixton obviously took even more offense to this as he grabbed Spock by the neck of his thin shirt, and brought his face so close to his that Spock could make out the finer details of his teeth, and a faint hint of what the human had consumed for breakfast that morning.

"You won't last long here with an attitude like that. You'll learn real quick who the superior being in this place is, and it most definitely isn't you. Not anymore." He hissed before shoving Spock back away from himself. A few chuckles sounded from behind Brixton as the guards who had accompanied the man regarded the scene with obvious amusement. The officer who had offered to get Spock a coat—Saxon—looked slightly pale and uncomfortable with the entire exchange.

"Alright, well if were done here…I'll need that PADD back." The other officer pointed out as he signaled to the PADD in Brixton's hands impatiently. Brixton glared at him before thrusting the PADD back rather roughly.

PADD in hand, the officer retreated back into the shuttle. Saxon however, remained a few seconds and nodded to Spock meaningfully before also departing. The shuttle wasted no time in making its departure, and was out of sight promptly two minutes later. Spock was just watching its exit into the sky before he was shoved roughly forward by Brixton.

"Alright…enough dawdling. It's fucking freezing out here." He stated firmly to everyone in the vicinity as he marched Spock along through the hangar. Spock was not about to complain, he wanted nothing more than to escape the harsh arctic temperatures this planet provided. His fingers and toes were practically numb with cold.

The walk inside was a lengthy one; they had to stop several times at various security barriers to confirm personnel identities, and submit to a bodily search before reaching—what Spock assumed—to be the actual prison itself. It was one massive door that served as the entrance to the prison, and the opening of it, it seemed, was rather complex and tedious in nature. Once inside, the icy assault on his body from the cold lessened somewhat, but not as much as he would have preferred, but it would be sufficient. It would have to be.

The entrance led into a narrow, grey corridor which gave the illusion of stretching on for miles. Metallic doors were scattered throughout the corridors, and bode no hints as to what might be behind them. Eventually though, they came to a turbolift which took the group deep underground.

_Logical, _Spock thought, _to have a prison underground_. It made the chances of escape that much more complicated, as well as any attack which might take place from above. He wondered if all penal colonies were fashioned like this.

The time in which the lift descended underground was quite lengthy before it finally came to a stop. As soon as the doors opened, Spock was roughly pushed out and led to a large room which—if he had to make an educated guess—was a sanitation room. The only difference was that there were no sonic shower heads, and no commodes. All that existed in the room was a grey tile floor, and multiple drains which were spaced apart on the floor. There were three bathing tubs, as well tables beside them—though what their purpose was, Spock had no idea. A few hoses hung on the wall to his right, which more than likely utilized water, and a few random cabinets were spaced apart along the walls.

"All right, Jenkins. Hughes. You stay with me, the rest of you can return to your stations." Brixton ordered to his escort. As soon as they had exited the room, Brixton set his coal grey eyes back on Spock, and evaluated him coldly.

"Firstly, I'd like to take this opportunity to welcome you to Doradus Prime. We run things differently here as this is a top secret facility. Every sorry son of a bitch in this place has a lifetime sentence strapped to their ass; which means," Brixton smirked, "I can do whatever the hell I please to you, and there isn't a damn thing you can do about it."

Spock quirked an eyebrow, but dared not speak. That would only earn him another physical assault. Brixton snorted humorously at his silence.

"What…nothing smart to say Vulcan? You're not going to _quote me_ on the proper penal colony regulations?" Behind Brixton, the other two men laughed.

Again, Spock remained silent. This however, was apparently the incorrect thing to do as seconds later, Brixton's fist connected with his now slightly swollen jaw. "You _will_ answer me when I speak to you _half-breed_, do you understand?" He hissed. Exhibiting no outward hints that the strike had caused him pain, Spock straightened up and replied.

"Yes."

"Yes _sir_." Brixton corrected in a threatening manner. A thin trace of annoyance traveled through Spock, and he resisted the urge to resort to some sort of intelligent insult. Logic, however, dictated that it would be easier—and safer—if he just complied.

"Yes…_sir,_" he replied rather sarcastically. Spock knew it was another show of emotion on his part, but he could not resist it. Jim had obviously rubbed off on him in more ways than one, and so far…this place was pushing his ability to keep those emotions at bay.

His control had never been tested in an atmosphere such as this. Yes, he had dealt with hostilities and violent actions taken against his person before—but that had been in the line of duty—not from the very same organization which he had been performing that duty for. To his surprise, Brixton actually chuckled at his answer as opposed to striking him again.

"A Vulcan with attitude. Of course, with your human heritage, it isn't a surprise that you wouldn't have the mental discipline of a full-blooded Vulcan. I bet that just pissed you off don't it." He spat coldly. Spock quirked an eyebrow.

"Oh yes I've heard about you _Spooock. _I know you're the only Human/Vulcan hybrid in existence. I know that some may have thought of you as the best First Officer in Starfleet. But you wanna know what I think? I think you're nothing. I think you're an abomination, and I'm personally going to make sure you don't leave this world without knowing that. I'm going to make sure you regret the day your mother shit you out. I'm going to make sure that when the lights finally do leave your eyes, that you know — really_ know—_just what a freak of fucking nature you are.

Here, you're not a Commander anymore. Here, you're just a number."

Spock continued to stare at Brixton impassively, though on the inside, he was sweltering with newfound anger. Obviously the man was xenophobic, and he was taking out his frustrations on him. This was not the first time Spock had dealt with bigotry. He had seen plenty of it first hand back when he was a child, back at the Academy, and on into his career at Starfleet. The circumstances were different then though. Back then, he was able to defend himself with his steady rise through the ranks. With a reputation he had earned. Here however, there was nothing he could do. Just like there was nothing he could have done back during his trial…no matter how unfair it was.

"Now, I'm gonna go over the rules, and I'm only going to say them once, so you'd do well to listen so you can remember."

"My memory is eidetic sir."

_BAM_.

The Warden's fist wasted no time in connecting with his face yet again, and the force of it sent his head whipping around. Spock tasted the tangy flavor of blood, and realized his lip had been split.

"Oh we _are_ gonna have fun. You and me. I can definitely see _that._" He laughed as he massaged the fist which he had just used to hit him with. Jenkins and Hughes, the men behind him, laughed at the scene.

"You'll be integrated into the prison population, and given an individual cell. Here, your cell is a privilege. Bad behavior gets that privilege revoked and you'll have to sleep out in the population, and let me tell you…you _don't _want that. You _will_ shower daily, or you will be punished, and we'll do it for you, which won't be pleasant.

This prison has a credit system that you will use to pay for your meals. You don't have credits? Well that's some tough tribble shit, because you won't be eating. And I don't _give a shit_ if you starve. In the event that you get to keep the privilege of your cell, you _will_ present yourself for the roll call every night at _lights out,_ which consists of an optic scan. Failure to do so will result in punishment. There is a mine here that you will be required to work in. _Diligently_. This is how you will receive your credits. If you don't show up for your shift, you _will _be punished. You will follow every order given to you by myself, the guards, and the medical staff." He paused for a moment to let his words sink in. "Can you tell me what happens if you fail to follow an order?" He asked sweetly as he raised his eyebrows.

"I must assume that I will be punished sir." Spock answered nonchalantly to the severe list of rules. Brixton smirked at him.

"I see we catch on quick." He assessed. Spock remained silent.

"Now that that's out of the way, I'm gonna need you to strip down to your birthday suit." He ordered simply as he brought his hands down over his thighs, the contact creating a loud, popping sound. Spock raised both eyebrows this time, having never heard this particular human colloquialism before. He knew what a birthday was, and he knew what a suit was. However, he was completely lost as to what the two things had to do with one another. It pained him that he would have to ask for clarification. There was nothing for it though.

"I…do not understand." He probed hesitantly, assuming the question would get him punched in the face again. Despite being around Jim and Dr. McCoy so much, he still had problems with idioms. Rolling his eyes, Brixton sighed in frustration. Spock expected that, for Dr. McCoy had the same reactions when Spock asked for clarification on the various idioms utilized by humans. There was one major difference in this situation though, and that was that Dr. McCoy would never hit him. This man would without a second thought.

"Are you fucking stupid? Your clothes! Take off your clothes!" He bellowed, his voice vibrating through the room. Spock hesitated again. This was the last thing he wanted to do, as it violated his privacy which his culture held in such high esteem. The only other people who had seen him naked was his deceased mother, and his father when he had been a very small child, unable to sufficiently take care of himself. Not even Nyota had seen him so privately before. Brixton and his guards were the last people he wanted to add to that list.

Brixton took his hesitance as disobedience and unsheathed what Spock noticed—from his firearms and weapons training at the Academy—was a neuroelectric baton from his uniform. Without hesitation, Brixton brought it up and dug it into Spock's right side. Right where his heart was. The force from the baton sent a wave of electricity throughout his entire body, which caused him to stumble over in pain. His knees made a cracking sound as they slammed down on the ground, and he placed his hands on his temples to soothe the acute pain that surged through his neural pathways and clouded his vision. He did not cry out however. He would master the pain. The expression of pain was just an emotion, an emotion he could suppress if he focused hard enough.

_Pain is a thing of the mind. The mind can be controlled. _

Regaining his composure, Spock took a deep breath and straightened himself back up. He noted with dismay the deep satisfaction on Brixton's face at having caused him discomfort.

"I'm impressed Vulcan, that would have caused anyone else to squeal like a stuck pig. Now…that was only at a medium setting. Shall we try the higher one? Or are you going to do what I asked, and strip down." He threatened. Spock wanted to argue. He wanted to inform the Warden that the use of such a weapon on a prisoner of the Federation was illegal, and against regulation. But he knew his attempt would be futile. It was not logical to attempt something which would not be successful.

Without hesitation this time, Spock scrambled to remove every single article of clothing until he was down to nothing but his nakedness. The cold, bitter air nipped uncomfortably at him, and resisted the urge to hug himself for warmth. The guard next to Brixton—Jenkins—looked him up and down, a hungry glint in his eyes as they came to rest on his lower half. Spock found himself blushing furiously, and wished he could disappear under the man's lingering gaze. Instantly he was ashamed for his lack of control.

"Now tell me, do you take after your human side? Or your Vulcan side?" Brixton joked as he pointed to a certain part of Spock's anatomy which he would have rather no one seen. The remark caused Jenkins and Hughes to burst out in laughter, and Spock could not help the feeling of humiliation that flowed through him at the remark. Never had he been on display in such a way.

"I find your query to be highly inappropriate, and will not dignify it with an answer." Spock replied thinly, knowing full well it would more than likely garner him yet another _punishment_. For some unknown reason however, this caused the men to laugh even harder. Fortunately though, Brixton did not choose to physically assault him again for the small act of defiance. Instead, he motioned to the hose on the wall and ordered a hysterical Jenkins to retrieve it and bring it over.

"Stand over there and place your hands on the wall." Brixton ordered as he pointed to the far right side of the room. Spock reluctantly obeyed, and walked over to the indicated area, already deducing what was about to happen. Although _he had_ been holding onto the faint hope that the Warden would utilize sonics to sanitize him. It was an illogical wish.

The sudden, sharply intense spray of icy water washed over Spock, causing him to shiver involuntarily. He had not exactly been able to raise his body's temperature properly after being out in the cold atmosphere of Doradus Prime, which made the icy temperature of the water all the more detrimental. In addition to the shrillness of it, the water's pressure was extremely potent. He knew that if he had been full human, he would have cried out from the pain of it, and had there not been a wall in front of him to brace himself on—Vulcan or not—he would have surely fallen.

"Turn around." Came from Brixton, and Spock obliged as Jenkins continued to assault him with the spray of the hose. It was invariably worse in the front, as this was where his more delicate parts resided. After they had finished there, _which had taken a little longer than necessary, _Spock noted, he was thrown a bristled scrub brush, and a bucket filled with an unknown liquid. The immensely strong odor of bleach and disinfectant lingering in the bucket indicated that it was probably some variation of disinfectant. Spock pondered if it would irritate his skin, which was quite sensitive already.

Not requiring directions, Spock picked up the bristled brush, and dipped it in the cleanser. He then proceeded to scrub his entire body with it, ignoring the slight stinging sensation that the chemical soap left behind on his skin.

Satisfied, Jenkins began spraying him down again with hose before he had a chance to brace himself against the wall again for support. The force of the water caused him to stumble and fall back on himself, which in turn caused the men to break out with laughter again at his expense.

"So much for that Vulcan strength we all hear _so much_ about, can't even hold your own against a little water." Brixton spat out as Spock continued to struggle against the hose's power. The statement was unfounded of course. Even if he had been full Vulcan, he would not have been able to stand up against the water's intense pressure. Spock quickly closed his eyes as the man sprayed him in the face. The inside of his nose burned brutally as the water forced its way up into his nostrils. Being that he was from a desert planet, Spock had never had a great affinity for water, either for hygienic purposes, or recreational. Now however, he detested it greatly.

After the unorthodox shower, Spock was ordered to stand, and then beckoned over to one of the lone tables on the far side of the room which resided next to one of the metal bathtubs. His body shivered uncontrollably as the water continued to drip off of him and onto the floor. They obviously were not going to offer him a towel to dry himself off with.

"Place your arm flat on the table; palm side up." Hughes instructed him as Jenkins disappeared out into the hallway. Spock did so, and it was not long before the man returned, and this time with an object in his hand that looked remarkably like a hand phaser, yet was not. He handed the unknown device to the Warden who fingered it almost seductively before adjusting the settings on it.

"As I said before, every prisoner has an identification number. Yours will be 284." Brixton informed him as the device in his hand gave a series of beeping sounds. He held the device up in the air and gazed at it longingly. "This little beauty right here will make sure you never forget your number." He continued with a menacing smile. This time, Spock refrained from reminding the Warden about his eidetic memory.

"Hold him boys, make sure he doesn't move." Brixton stated as he began to near closer to Spock, the device laying limply by his side. Hughes came around the table and placed his hands roughly on Spock's outstretched arm to make sure he could not move it. In the meantime, Jenkins came up behind him and grabbed him by the neck and shoulders, almost like an embrace. Instantly thoughts and feelings that were not his own began making their way through him. With two men holding him, it was difficult to discern whose thoughts belonged to which man. One of them however—much to Spock's horror—felt savagely lustful towards him. Sexually graphic imagery of him being assaulted in varying positions was almost enough to cause Spock to throw the men off of him. He was stronger than them, he could do it.

_And then you will be beaten for it_, he told himself as he did his best to clamp down on his shields in an effort to stop the images and foreign emotions from battering his mind.

By the time Spock had managed to effectively shield himself, Brixton was standing over him, the phaser-like device in his hand inches away from the inside of his forearm just below the left wrist. A second later the device began emitting a laser like light, which seared into his skin with such burning intensity that Spock almost cried out. Almost.

Spock watched in morbid fascination as the laser began burning, what he could only assume to be his given identification number, into his epidermis. It left a trail of green, inflamed tissue in its' wake over the damage already done by the metal cuffs. The acrid smell of burnt flesh permeated the air as every number was clearly and precisely branded onto his arm; and by the time it was finished, the number—284—could be read plainly in vivid green.

Satisfied, Brixton retracted the device, and signaled the other men to let him up. While Hughes relinquished his hold instantly, Jenkins, he noted, did not. Instead the man lingered behind Spock, his head bending forward slightly until Spock could feel his cheek touching his ear. Instantly Spock knew who was responsible for the violent sexual imagery which flooded his mind not moments before.

Being that he was still extremely nude, knowing the desires of the man behind him unsettled him deeply. He almost scrambled away when he felt a very distinct hardness press into his ass through the other man's trousers. The imagery was now assaulting his mind again full force as he unwillingly let his shields drop in his moment of shock.

"Jenkins! That's enough of that. I've got shit to do so we need to wrap this up." Brixton huffed at the other man, an act for which Spock was eternally grateful. With a heavy sigh, Jenkins thrust Spock away from him and placed his hands in front of him in an attempt to hide what Spock knew was lurking underneath. What had been touching him moments ago.

Inwardly, Spock shuddered.

"You're lucky I'm being transferred outta here tomorrow _Vulcan_." Jenkins spat as his eyes roamed over Spock's naked body. The Vulcan could not help the relief that poured through his system at the admission. He _did not _want to see this human again.

Hughes handed him a pale blue, scrub-type shirt, along with loose fitting pants to match, effectively breaking his attention off Jenkins, whom he knew still had his eyes firmly glued to Spock's lower half. He was also given underwear, plain black shoes, and a pair of socks. Impatient to be clothed once again so Jenkins would have nothing further to occupy his vision with, Spock dressed quickly into his issued prison uniform, noting the number 284 which was embroidered in black along the right side of his chest.

"This is the only set of clothes and shoes you will receive. The responsibility of cleaning them remains yours. You will be able to acquire more clothing, but it will cost you." Brixton explained to him. "When you walk out of this room, you are no longer Spock the Vulcan; you are prisoner 284 of Doradus Prime." Brixton informed him coldly before motioning for him to move towards the door.

Once back in the corridor, Spock was marched through a series of them before arriving at what he recognized with interest, as a transporter pad.

"Stand on the pad prisoner." Brixton ordered firmly. Once he was situated in the correct position, Brixton continued speaking while simultaneously working the transporter's controls.

"There are no doors to the _Prison Pop_. We beam prisoners directly in, and directly out. You will be beamed into your assigned cell, and from there…you're on your own."

Spock began to feel the familiar tugging of the transporter working on his molecules.

"I'm going to enjoy breaking you." Brixton broke in right before the transporter whisked him away.

**A.N. Thank you so much for the faithful reviewers. It really warms my soul when I log on and see that people have left their comments. I like to know what ya'll are thinking! **


	7. A Father's Woe

**A.N. A big shout out to my betas for reading and editing for me! This story would be in shambles without them! And a big thank you to the reviews! Your words greatly motivate me to hurry up with the next chapter. Sorry this one took longer than the previous ones...but I am in school, and...let's face it, I just had to priortize a little bit and quit procrastinating! But here is chapter seven. It's not my best writing, but it's one of those that's necessary to the plot. This takes place in the two days that Spock was enroute to Doradus Prime. We get to see what Jim was up too in all that time. **

**NO major warnings to be wary of...just language. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek! **

The previous two days for Kirk had been substantially different from Spock's.

As soon as it had been confirmed that the shuttle carrying Spock had left orbit, Kirk made a beeline for his apartment. Bones had tried to follow him, but one glare from Kirk shot that idea all to hell. Right now, the only thing he wanted to do was be alone with his thoughts. He needed to process what the fuck just happened. When he finally arrived, he let the door slide shut behind him—locked it—and leaned back against it with his eyes closed.

Ignoring the whine of his communicator—which was probably just Bones anyway, or maybe even Uhura—Kirk stripped his shirt off and headed into the bathroom where he lost his pants as well. Usually he just went with the sonics, living on a Starship had instilled that habit in him. But today, he felt that a sonic shower just wasn't going to have the same desired effect that a good old fashioned, ice cold shower would.

Kirk fumbled for a long time with the settings on the shower unit. It was a lot harder than it looked to switch the sonic setting to hydro-powered. The damn thing just didn't want to work, which was just the fucking story of his life at the moment. Nothing, it seemed, wanted to work in Kirk's all-too-shitty life right now. He huffed in annoyance as yet another minute went by with him standing there, stark naked, and still completely dry.

"Goddamn son of a bitch!" He cursed at the shower unit. "The ONE fucking thing I want it to do, and it can't even—FUCK!" He raged on vehemently as he pounded his hand on the tile wall. A couple of seconds later, for some reason he couldn't fathom, the water started to pour out through the shower head. Unsurprisingly though, he still felt just as angry as he did a few seconds ago. The water—it seemed—had nothing to do with his irritation.

Turning the temperature down as low as it would go, Kirk stepped in. His muscles instantly started to spasm from the water's icy chill as it covered every inch of his body. He didn't care. At least now he had a physical pain to focus on. This was much better than the psychological pain which had been raging through him since Spock disappeared around that corner, taking his heart with him.

Kirk still couldn't wrap his brain around it. Never in a million years would he have imagined this happening to Spock. But Spock being carted off to prison wasn't the only thing blowing his mind to shit right now. He _loved_ Spock. Like actually _loved_ him. Back in that godforsaken hallway, all he'd wanted to do was crush Spock's face in a desperate, raging kiss. And didn't that impulse just come right the fuck out of nowhere?!

Well, maybe not _nowhere. _Kirk knew enough about attraction to know that he was definitely drawn to the Vulcan. But he'd been attracted to a thousand other beings before. His track record?

No, the thing that was really throwing him for a loop was the revelation that he was obviously more than just attracted to Spock. He was head-over-heels, school girl in love with him. When did he start developing those feelings? And why the fuck had he not seen it before?! _Because timing, as always, is a big bitch that wants me to suffer._

Suddenly the phrase, '_you don't know what you got until it's gone_' seemed to fit his situation perfectly. All the signs were there in his own mind, he had just been too stupid, and too dense to see them for what they were. Now though—now he knew.

And now…it was too late.

_No don't think like that Jim. It's not too late. You made a promise remember? You're gonna get him out of there. _Kirk assured himself firmly as he turned his back to the wall of the shower. He laid his head against the tile, and let the cold water fall steadily down his face. He was shaking violently, and he wasn't sure whether it was the frigid temperature of the water, or his own chaotic emotions that were causing it. Wishing to eliminate one of the two theories, Kirk roughly turned the water off and stepped out. Walking out into the cold air of the bathroom was not pleasant, and he desperately grabbed for the first towel he could find. The shower had been pointless after all. It did absolutely nothing to lessen the pain he felt. If anything, it had intensified it.

After half-heartedly drying off, Kirk went into his bedroom and began going through his mess of unfolded clothing for something decent—and clean—to wear. He settled for some faded blue jeans, and a plain grey shirt. He didn't think he could stand to wear a blue one right now. Once he was clothed he let himself fall back on the bed to stare aimlessly at the ceiling. He was exhausted after barely getting any sleep at all the past week, but every time he shut his damn eyes, he was haunted with the image of Spock reaching out to him, taking his hand in his, and showing him the most vulnerable and intimate aspects of himself. Kirk knew what it had cost the Vulcan to reveal feelings like that. He wouldn't have done it unless he was desperate. And Spock being desperate about anything was heart breaking.

He should have told him, back there in that hallway. He should have told Spock just how much he meant to him. _Oh_ _please,_ Kirk instantly snorted at the idea,_ as if someone like Spock would entertain the idea of loving someone like me? No, it's better this way. _And it probably was. At least now, Spock wouldn't have to go to prison with the assumption that during all of their chess games in each other's quarters, his captain probably wanted nothing more than to carelessly sweep the board aside, throw his First Officer onto the table, and fuck him relentlessly. An idea which _definitely_ had some appeal now.

Yes. It was better that Spock remember Kirk as he had always been to him, a good friend.

_Except good friends don't let their best friend get framed for murder, and sentenced to life in prison._

"FUCK!" He yelled at no one in particular as he shot up off the bed. This was pointless. Sitting here like this, wallowing in self-pity. He needed to be doing something. He needed to start making good on his promise to Spock. Every moment he spent dicking around was another moment Spock had to spend in some hell-hole halfway across the galaxy.

Grabbing his communicator off the table where he'd thrown it, Kirk stomped out of his apartment. He was _going_ to make good on his promise. One way or _a-fucking-nother_.

((oOo))

"Captain Kirk to see Admiral Conroy please." Kirk said to the female receptionist seated behind the desk. She was young, pretty, and regarded him hungrily as he stood there, behind the main desk at Starfleet Headquarters. Kirk ignored her. In a previous time, he might have exchanged some flirty banter, maybe asked her out for drinks, but things were different now. Much different. He never thought he'd say this at _any_ point in his life—but there was only one person he would ever want to flirt with now…

"I think he's in his office, but I'm not sure he's taking…_visitors_ this time of night." She answered in a sultry tone as she continued to eye him like a piece of candy. He ignored her.

"He's about to." Kirk retorted in a curt tone as he scanned the wall behind her, which listed the names of various Admirals and Commanders and their room numbers. When his eyes landed on Conroy's room number, he wasted no time in setting off after it, ignoring the protests from the woman.

Arriving in front of Conroy's door, Kirk hit the chime on the small hand plate to the right of it, and waited impatiently for Conroy to answer. He knew how late it was…but he didn't care. A few seconds later, Conroy's boisterous voice sounded through the door.

"I'm not taking visitors right now." He proclaimed, but Kirk wasn't accepting that.

"Admiral, sir, it's me…its James Kirk. I know it's late, but I need to speak with you." He attempted with a hint of urgency. Surely Conroy would agree to see him. A few more idle seconds passed by before the door slid open, and Conroy greeted him with a fatigued smile.

"Ah Captain Kirk, for you I'll make an exception. Please come in. I know tonight hasn't been easy for you," he greeted somberly and motioned for Kirk to enter. Once inside, he surveyed his surroundings, taking note of the twentieth century undertone the room held. Something told him that Bones would appreciate this room. The down home country Doctor did have a thing for décor such as this.

"Please, take a seat," he encouraged politely as he himself sat down, and then pointed to a comfortable looking chair in front of his desk. Kirk obliged and seated himself, slapping his hands down over his knees in the process.

"I'd ask how you're holding up after what happened earlier, but something tells me I don't have to." He ascertained with a frown.

Kirk didn't say anything, which was answer enough it seemed.

"So…instead, can I offer you something to drink? Something with a little kick?"

Kirk shook his head and leaned forward slightly. "I was wondering if I might ask you something?" He questioned.

"Of course Captain Kirk, what would you like to know?"

Kirk didn't hesitate. "You told me you believed Starfleet was corrupted, and that they might be the ones behind Spock's set up," he began, his eyes never leaving the admiral's. Conroy simply nodded for him to continue, but his eyes appeared slightly guarded now.

"I want—_need _to know why you think that. You have to have seen something, or heard _something_ that would give you that conclusion." Kirk pointed out confidently. Conroy's guarded eyes quickly turned into a hard stare. A stare that lasted a good, awkward minute. Kirk shifted uneasily in his seat.

"I can't answer that captain." He said plainly as he reached in his desk and brought out a shot glass, and a tall bottle of God only knew what.

"Why not?!" Kirk questioned with a hint of annoyance. Pouring a dark liquid from the bottle, Conroy answered.

"This is not the time or place for this captain, and I'm afraid I might have already given away too much." He replied placidly, and placed the glass to his mouth, tipped it, and chugged the liquid down in one go. Grimacing from the taste, the admiral slammed the glass back down on the desk, the sharp sound telling Kirk that he had a very bad headache coming on.

"Too mu—! What the hell is going on here?! If you know something, I want to hear it!" Kirk bellowed, and abruptly came to his feet to tower over the admiral. There was one image racing through his mind at that moment.

_Spock reaching out to him, taking his hand. _

"I told you I can't discuss—," Conroy began to reply, but Kirk was way too heated, and way too pissed to allow him too.

"Don't give me that shit! An innocent man just got his whole life taken away from him! Do you not even care?!" Kirk raged, edging closer towards the desk. Conroy opened his mouth to reply, but instead, he sighed heavily and looked to the floor a few moments before glancing back up again, a pained expression on his face.

"It's not that I don't want to help you captain, and it's not that I don't want to help Mr. Spock, hell, Starfleet couldn't have made a worse decision when it comes to that brilliant Vulcan…the track record he has? But the fact is, I don't _have _any hard facts, and I don't have any evidence. I have a gut feeling, and I have my suspicions. I know Admiral Marcus wasn't alone on that need-to-play-battleship kick he went on. I know that there had to be others involved." He confided in all seriousness, the tone of his voice ending in barely above a whisper.

Kirk quickly ran through the list of admirals, commanders, captains, and other high ranking Starfleet officers for any that might've been in bed with Marcus. One name came to mind that he was ninety-nine percent positive was guilty.

"Covington." He spat bitterly, and mostly to himself. Conroy began pouring himself another drink.

"I've had my suspicions about him, especially after his rapid promotion to _Admiral_." Conroy agreed disdainfully.

"Not to mention his hatred for Spock. If looks could kill, Spock would have been dead that first night he was brought in." Kirk added, and for the first time tonight, a small flicker of hope bubbled in his chest. It wasn't a conviction, hell it wasn't even enough to get the admiral in for questioning, but it was a start.

"Yes. As long as I've known Covington, he's always been slightly xenophobic, which is why I questioned his promotion. Usually bigots don't make it very far in the ranks as far as the Federation is concerned, but somehow…that bastard slipped through the cracks." Conroy spat in disgust. Obviously, the admiral hated Covington just as much as Kirk did.

"Is he an open xenophobe?" Kirk probed. Perhaps if he could prove to the Council that Covington disliked Vulcans to begin with, they would reexamine Spock's case, being that Covington was the one who handled the majority of it."

"He used to be. Hell, I know it caused him a bit of trouble in his younger days, but when he became a commander, any bigoted remarks or actions were few and far between, if at all. But I know that kind of hate doesn't just float away." Conroy revealed as he chugged down his second shot, and again, offered to pour one for Kirk who declined with more irritation this time. _If he offers me one more drink…_

"Is there documentation of any xenophobic actions on Convington's part? Old complaints or something like that?" Kirk urged on hastily.

"Look, that's all I'm sayin'. I'm not getting into this. I've told you too much already, probably set you off on some witch hunt judging by that look on your face." Conroy blurted out as he came to stand. It was a hint that it was time for Kirk to take his leave. Obviously, he wouldn't be getting what he came for.

The two shared a pregnant stare before Kirk ran his hands through his hair in resignation, and turned towards the door.

"I understand sir." He stated simply, and without inflection. Conroy looked surprised at the lack of emotion Kirk was exhibiting. Had he expected a shouting fest?

"You didn't know Spock. You might have known him second hand, but he wasn't your friend. He never saved your life…_personally_—anyways." Kirk added as an afterthought. Spock had saved plenty of lives when he had helped stop Nero…when he had stopped Khan. Conroy's life was no exception. "So I don't expect you to put your life on the line to help save his. I know you're afraid that what happened to Spock might happen to you, and I can't judge you for that." He continued quietly as he came to stop in front of the door. Conroy, for once, had nothing to say. Instead he actually looked ashamed, affirming that what Kirk said was the truth. When the door slid opened to grant him exit, Kirk added one last thing.

"But just know that if the roles were reversed, if it were you going to prison, and he was sitting in your chair…he would do _everything_ in his power to see that justice was served, because he was that kind of man. He was a _good _man, and an even better Vulcan." _He was my Vulcan, _went unspoken.

Kirk watched with a small bit of satisfaction as the color of Conroy's cheeks turned a delicate shade of rose red. He had apparently struck a nerve. Good.

Not saying another word, Kirk turned back around and left.

((oOo))

The next day found Kirk no better off than he'd been the previous one. His first thought after the pitiful hour of sleep he'd managed was of Spock. He wondered if the Vulcan had arrived at whatever penal colony they'd sent him too yet, or, if he was still traveling there. It still bothered the hell out of him that its location was classified. Since when were penal colonies top secret in the first place? Then again, since when were legal trials carried out in less than a week? As far as he was concerned, the whole situation was fucked up, and it stank to high heaven.

After a quick shower and a half eaten bagel, Kirk sat in front of his computer terminal to check his messages. Quickly, he searched for the one he knew wouldn't be there…which would be a message from Sarek. And just as he'd predicted, there was nothing from the Ambassador. Kirk couldn't help the intense feelings of anger that the revelation dredged up inside him. His own stepfather—Frank—had been a royal asshole who he would never care to see again. Sarek however, wasn't Spock's stepdad, he was his actual father, and wasn't it like—a _requirement_ or something to actually be there for your child when shit hits the fan? Well shit practically splattered all over the ceiling as far as Spock was concerned, and still no Sarek. It bothered him to no end.

A chime at his door brought him from his irritated musings. "Goddammit Bones!" He sighed as he pushed himself up out of the chair, and went to answer the door. Opening it revealed that for the second time in a week, Nyota Uhura would be on his doorstep.

"_Pleeease_ don't tell me someone else is missing, because I really don't think I can handle _that_ right now." Kirk commented dryly as he moved aside to allow her entrance. She rolled her eyes, and passed him to walk into the living room.

"To what do I owe the pleasure Lieutenant?" He breathed out heavily, and went to sit on the couch. It was obviously going to be another one of those days.

"Captain. I…_that is_…how are you holding up?" She stumbled over her words, and Kirk knew that really wasn't what she wanted to ask, but it still annoyed him that she would ask such a dumb question.

"Oh I'm just peachy really. My First Officer—who also happens to be my friend—who also happens to be my best friend—who I just realized I have fucking—fucking _feelings_ for!—was just framed for murder, and shipped off to serve a life sentence in some backwater penal colony that I don't know _where in the fuck_ is, ALL because of me! Because I wasn't watching his back—like I should've been doing, and now—now this is the part where I should be pulling some _grandmaster plan_ out of my _ASS _that's gonna bring him back to me safe and free, and I can't even fucking manage to do that much! So really Lieutenant…I'm doing just fucking swell over here!" He finished in a tone bordering on hysteria. He noted that with each passing sentence, Uhura's eyes became wider and wider at his display. There was a lengthy pause before she mustered the courage to speak.

"…You…you loved him?" She questioned in disbelief. Instantly Kirk went scarlet. Had he really just admitted that to Uhura? Spock's _ex_? Everyone was always telling him he had a mouth. Now he could understand what they meant by that.

"Did uh…did I say that? What I meant was—," He started sheepishly, hoping to just glaze over the whole thing. He didn't want to talk about this now. He didn't want to talk about this ever.

"Yes Kirk. You did, and don't try and evade the question. Spock was the master of evasiveness, so don't think for a second I can't handle you." She scolded in a motherly tone.

There was a long period where neither of them said anything. Finally though, Kirk broke under her piercing gaze.

"I do…" He admitted with a drawn out sigh as he hung his head in his hands. A sudden shift on the couch told him that Uhura had taken a seat beside him.

"Did you…does he know?" She probed in nearly a whisper.

"No. And I'm glad he doesn't. The last thing he needs before going to prison is the revelation that his commanding officer harbored romantic feelings for him." Kirk replied firmly, and settled her with an even stare. Uhura looked thoughtful for a few moments, as if she was mulling over something.

"How long?" She asked finally.

"Like, how long did I know…how—how I felt about him?"_Am I really having this conversation right now?_

"Yes."

_Apparently so._

" I mean—I knew on a subconscious level for some time I think—but it wasn't until…back in that hallway—right before they took him away—that I realized what I…felt for him was stronger than just friendship." Kirk said quietly as the hold on his emotions threatened to crack. "You know that saying, 'you don't appreciate something until it's gone?'"

Uhura shifted her knees.

"Captain…" She began to argue, but he cut her off.

"I think that applies to me. I had the most perfect, beautiful man in the world right in front of me, and I didn't realize it until he was gone. I didn't fucking appreciate him until—," he was starting to get angry with himself again. Uhura took his face fiercely by the hands—which was something she _never _did—and forced him to look at her.

"Don't you dare Kirk. Don't you dare say that about yourself. You _did_ appreciate him, and he knows that. Don't ever think he doesn't know that." She implored him as she leveled her eyes. There was the faint hint of a double meaning in her words, but Kirk didn't press the issue. Surprisingly, it felt…good…to get this off his chest. To tell _somebody _about the mind fuck he'd just gone through, even if it was Uhura. _Spock's ex…_

She definitely wouldn't have been his first choice.

"Wow…this is so not a conversation to have with the man you love's ex-girlfriend." He pointed out humorously, wanting to get away from the grim direction the conversation had taken. Uhura narrowed her eyes playfully before swatting him on the arm.

"Seriously captain?" She joked as he rubbed his arm in false pain where she'd hit him.

"Hey, no brutalizing the captain!" He protested as his mood shifted slightly in a more positive light. She was just about to reply when a new voice joined the fold.

"I was wonderin when you were finally gonna admit to lovin' that pointy-eared bastard." Bones drawled from the doorway. Instantly he froze. His eyes wide with shock as he stared at his friend who had his arms folded over his chest.

"Uh…Um…how long ha—have you been standing there Bones?" He managed as he straightened himself up. Uhura, he noticed, had shifted further down the couch. Bones narrowed his eyes at him.

"Long enough Jim. Your door was unlocked, and I let myself in. And before you literally shit your pants over there, I want you to know that I think it's great."

Kirk had already had his mouth open, ready to spout every legitimate argument under the sun as to why he loved Spock, and why Bones would just have to get over it. The doctor's reaction however, had left him stunned. He hadn't been expecting to win him over so easily.

"…You do?" He asked stupidly. Bones rolled his eyes.

"Jesus Jim. Are you gonna quit actin' like I came up here and caught you with your dick in your hand? I said I think it's great. I may not understand what you see in Santa's elf, but it's not my business. If he makes you happy, then I'll just take a shot of whiskey and get the hell over it." He deadpanned.

Kirk ran his hands through his hair and shared a quick glance with Uhura, who had narrowed her eyes at Bones, probably in response to the '_elf' _comment. "He does make me happy Bones…more than you can imagine—more than I _ever_ imagined. I just…I hope I get the opportunity to try and do the same." He said as a veil of melancholy descended over the room.

"I still can't believe they actually sent that goody-two-shoes to prison." Bones voiced in disbelief as he sauntered on into the apartment, and sat down ungracefully on the adjacent chair. Kirk knew that Bones felt awkward talking about anything even remotely romantic, and this was his way of changing the subject. "I mean, my credits would've been on you going before he did." He exclaimed quietly, earning a glare from Kirk.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence Bones." He retorted bitterly, causing Bones to sigh in annoyance.

"Oh don't be so dramatic. What I'm sayin' is…I figured that if someone in Starfleet was trying to get one of their own out of the way, it would've been you. Not Spock. Hell! You're the loose cannon around here! It just doesn't make sense." Bones clarified with a hint of confusion. Kirk silently agreed, although it only made him feel worse. As Spock would have said, _he_ would have been the logical choice to take out of the equation. He was the rebel, the rule breaker, not Spock. He had no motives, and no known enemies of Spock's to target as a suspect. The leads he'd _tried _to follow up on seemed to have disappeared straight off the map—or had mysteriously died. However, there was _one_ avenue left that he had yet to go down.

"What about that doctor you mentioned Bones? Kit Hangerson?"

"Kel Hangerton." McCoy corrected evenly. Kirk waved him down.

"Whatever, I think it's high time we paid this guy a visit Bones. I'd bet the Enterprise's left nacelle that that dude knows something." He supplied suspiciously, garnering a bemused look from Uhura.

"Um. Anyone want to tell me just who you guys are talking about?" She chimed in. Kirk turned to her and filled her in on the details of Spock's questionable '_medical exam', _and the background information of the even more questionable doctor who'd performed it. By the end of the recount, Uhura was gaping at him.

"And you haven't talked to this guy yet?" She exclaimed, much to Bones' and Kirk's irritation.

"It was on my to-do list okay? I just haven't had a chance to do it yet what with the other people I've been trying to track down here lately!" Kirk defended. Before she could fashion a reply, Bones cut her off.

"_Anyways—_," he drawled out, effectively interrupting the soon-to-be heated argument. "That's why I came over here Jim, I got a hold of this guy's schedule, and I thought tonight we could question him when he comes back on duty…apparently he just works the nightshift in the medbay." Kirk expected as much.

"Hmm, night shift huh? Fancy that." The less people one had to deal with, the easier it would be cover one's tracks.

"No kidding." Bones replied sourly right before Kirk's communicator went off. Seeing as Uhura and Bones were already here with him, he predicted that it was either Scotty with an update on the Enterprise, or someone from Starfleet. He _really_ hoped it was Scotty. He didn't think he could talk to anyone from Starfleet right now without inflecting some colorful vocabulary into the mix.

"Kirk here." He greeted placidly.

"Captain Kirk, This is the main lobby at Starfleet Headquarters…I've got Ambassador Sarek of New Vulcan here requesting an audience with you." The female voice on the other end informed him. Kirk was speechless.

"Well, look who decided to finally grace us with his almighty presence." Bones muttered dejectedly to himself.

"…Captain Kirk?" the voice inquired, wondering if the connection had been lost as Kirk still hadn't said anything in response.

"I'm on my way." Kirk replied curtly before cutting off the connection. He then glanced at Uhura questioningly. "Did you know he was coming?"

The shocked expression on her face pretty much answered that question.

"No captain. None of my messages ever received a reply." She answered with a hint of disdain.

"That son of a bitch has some nerve." Kirk said angrily as he pocketed his communicator, and hastily stood up to head for the door.

"Jim, don't you think I should go with you?" Bones questioned loudly at Kirk's retreating back. Without turning around, Kirk waved him down with his hand.

"I'll handle this Bones…He's got some explaining to do. He owes me that much…he owes Spock that much." Kirk answered firmly as he exited the room and headed over to meet with the Ambassador.

((oOo))

In as little as five minutes, Kirk had arrived at the main hall in Starfleet Headquarters. The only emotion he could bring himself to feel on his hasty walk over was rage

Pure, unadulterated rage.

Rage that Sarek had the _audacity_ to show up now, when his son had needed him earlier. Rage that he hadn't even bothered to contact Kirk at all, despite the numerous messages he had left for him. The numerous messages that _Uhura_ had left for him!

Therefore, it was no surprise to the young captain, that as soon as he met eyes with the victim of his anger, he made a beeline towards him, a menacing stride in his step. Sarek hadn't even gotten a chance to open his mouth before Kirk hauled his fist up and caught the elder Vulcan in the jaw. The sound of flesh connecting with flesh echoed throughout the room.

Audible gasps sounded around the lobby as onlookers witnessed what was happening, but Kirk didn't care. All the anger, hurt, and regret he'd felt in the past week came pouring out of him with each blow to the Vulcan's face. Surprisingly, Sarek made no move to defend himself, even though Kirk knew that the Vulcan could easily take him out if he'd wanted. Old man or not…Vulcans were still stronger than humans.

"_Captain Kirk!" _The receptionist, who he'd bet had commed him, shrieked in alarm.

"Security! Security!" He vaguely heard someone call from the other side of the lobby. It wasn't long before he felt firm hands grab him around the waist and chest in an attempt to pull him off the Ambassador.

"HE'S YOUR SON! HE NEEDED YOU!" Kirk bellowed as he fought against the men restraining him. Sarek took a moment to regain his composure, but otherwise appeared unharmed. _Damn Vulcan resilience, _Kirk thought bitterly to himself. If he was going to be charged with assaulting the guy, he at least hoped to get a nosebleed out of the deal. Despite the absence of blood, Kirk couldn't help but notice how haggard the Vulcan looked. He looked thinner than the last time Kirk had seen him, and, if he didn't know any better, he'd swear the elder had dark greenish circles starting to form around his eyes.

To put it simply, Sarek looked to be in his own private little hell. _Good, _Kirk thought bitterly, _maybe he's actually feeling guilty, serves him right, the bastard._

"While I had not anticipated a physical attack from you captain, I must say that it does not come as a surprise to me." Sarek voiced impassively, although he sounded slightly fatigued—which was unusual for a Vulcan.

"So you knew you were blowing me off?" Kirk spat as he struggled once more in the security officer's grips.

"It was not my intention to _ignore_ this situation Captain Kirk." He defended plainly, but it only further angered Kirk. The way he said _situation _like it was no big deal.

"_Situation?" _Kirk spat the word like it was a disease._ "_This isn't a situation anymore Ambassador. In case you haven't been briefed, this _situation _is a done deal. With no help from you, Spock's been charged with murder, and shipped off to God knows where!" Kirk seethed, and while he couldn't be sure, he could've swore he saw the faintest flash of regret flash in the older Vulcan's eyes.

"If you would permit me to explain captain?" Sarek proposed before turning his gaze to the two Security Officer's restraining him. "You may release him gentlemen, I do not wish to press charges, the captain is simply expressing himself emotionally, a fact for which I cannot blame him for." He explained bluntly. Kirk snorted at the Vulcan's analysis of him, and the two men regarded him warily. He didn't want this guy analyzing him. He wasn't Spock. Would never _be _Spock, and it sure as hell didn't have the same effect as when his son did it.

"Are you sure you want us to do that Ambassador?"

"It is not logical for me to voice an instruction that I do not wished carried out." The Vulcan supplied thinly. The two men shared a glance before letting go of Kirk, who immediately shrugged them off rather dramatically, his penetrating gaze never leaving Sarek's.

Despite another urge to hit the Ambassador, Kirk repressed it with difficulty. While he might have avoided a court martial this time, he didn't want to press his luck a second time. He gave the Vulcan a steadfast look.

"You better hope you've got a good explanation Ambassador."

"To hope would be illogical captain."

Kirk sighed heavily and rubbed at his tired eyes. He was in no mood for this Vulcan bullshit. "Come to the point."

"Perhaps it would be prudent to speak in a more private setting." Sarek prompted as he eyed the growing crowd scattered around them, their eyes hungry with the hope that another fight would break out. Kirk could imagine the headline now: _**Breaking News! Captain James T. Kirk physically assaults Vulcan Ambassador Sarek!**_

For the first time today, Kirk actually agreed with the older Vulcan. This wasn't the place for explanations. His thoughts suddenly landed on Uhura. She had worked just as tirelessly to get a hold of the Ambassador, same as him. Whatever explanation the Vulcan had cooked up, he figured Uhura deserved to hear it too.

"You're right. Follow me _Ambassador._" Kirk agreed, placing a bitter emphasis on the Vulcan's title.

((oOo))

"I was under the impression that we would be conversing privately." Sarek voiced as both he and Kirk entered his apartment. Bones and Uhura had been deep in conversation when they walked in, and upon noticing them, exchanged wary glances with one another. Kirk couldn't help the feeling that he'd been the topic of their conversation.

"Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of them." Kirk said sternly. Sarek regarded the other two occupants in the room, his eyes lingering longer than necessary on Uhura.

_I wonder if he knew they'd been a couple. _He thought errantly. It was hard to imagine Spock sharing his love life with the stern Vulcan standing in front of him, looking as stoic as a statue.

"As I stated before, I would rather—," Sarek began, but was quickly cut off.

"—_This_ is Dr. McCoy, my Chief Medical Officer, as well Spock's Doctor and friend, and this—," Kirk jerked his head towards Uhura, who surprisingly eyed the senior Vulcan with disdain, "—is my Chief Communication's Officer, Nyota Uhura." Kirk introduced bluntly. Uhura held her head up proudly.

Sarek let his eyes linger once again on her, answering his previous question.

_Yep, he definitely knew they were dating. _

"Both of these officers were close friends of your son." Kirk just dared Bones to protest, but the man didn't. "So…whatever bullshit explanation you have, they deserve to hear it too." Kirk finished as he went to stand with his two friends. If the Vulcan was irritated with Kirk calling the shots, he didn't show it.

"Very well Captain Kirk. First, I will explain my reasoning for not replying to the numerous subspace messages you and your communications officer sent me."

"This should be good." Kirk could hear Bones say quietly out of the side of his mouth, but there was no doubt the Vulcan heard it too. He made no indication however that he did.

"I did not reply because I did not receive these messages until exactly one point four days ago." The angry expression on everyone's face quickly transpired into one of confusion at this revelation. Ignoring the baffled looks he was receiving, Sarek continued.

"I did not receive them because…to my deep regret—," Kirk inwardly gasped at the raw emotion the man exhibited in his voice. Sure Spock was known to act emotional from time to time, but he was also half human. Sarek on the other hand, was a full blooded Vulcan. To see such a blatant display of emotion was staggering. "I was in a comatose state due to certain cardiovascular complications."

"You had a heart attack?" Kirk sputtered in shock, immediately feeling guilty at the behavior he'd shown toward the Vulcan earlier, especially the _physical _aspect of it. Beside him, Bones was already pulling out the tricorder he was constantly armed with.

"Indeed Captain, for the past year, I have been undergoing medical treatment for it, but unfortunately, the prognosis has steadily declined."

Tricorder in hand, Bones began to scan the Vulcan with it, who in turn eyed it evenly. "That is not necessary Dr. McCoy, I can assure you that I am in good health at the moment."

Bones huffed and carried on with his scan. Once he had confirmed the Vulcan's statement with his own device, he retracted the tricorder, and went to stand by Kirk again. He still watched Sarek cautiously though, like he might start seizing at any moment. Sarek raised an eyebrow at him.

"Did Spock know!?" Uhura asked in astonishment.

"With the recent loss of his mother, as well as his home planet, I did not think it logical to burden him with this as well."

"Well that was damn human of you." Bones blurted out, causing both Kirk and Uhura to stare at him. Sarek however, took no offense. And if he did, he didn't show it.

"An astute observation Doctor McCoy, but as Spock is half human, I will not make the same mistake of ignoring that side of his heritage as I have done in the past. I did not wish for him to…to worry about my well being in addition to having to perform his duties aboard the Enterprise."

"Sounds to me like you were worried about him yourself Ambassador." Kirk pointed out knowingly. Sarek raised both eyebrows at him, and the gesture strongly reminded Kirk of Spock. The Vulcan standing in front of him was obviously where his First Officer had picked it up from.

"While to _worry_ is an emotion Captain Kirk, I cannot deny that it was the basis of my decision. I was concerned for his well-being. I have been since Amanda's death."

"How long were you in a coma?" Kirk questioned, feeling slightly awkward at the direction the conversation was taking.

"I lost consciousness exactly two days before Spock was arrested, according to the records that I have been able to familiarize myself with on the trip to Earth. This is why I had negated to respond to any subspace messages regarding him. I was not aware of their existence." Kirk shook his head. That may have been all well and good, but Sarek wasn't the only damn Vulcan on New Vulcan. _No one_ had come to help Spock.

"Then why couldn't someone have said something to me? I don't know how many times someone just told me you were _unavailable _or _unable to be reached_. Why couldn't they have just told me the truth instead of giving me the run around?! And more importantly…why didn't New Vulcan send anyone here to help Spock? He _is_ a Vulcan citizen is he not?" Kirk accused thinly.

"I am still attempting to acquire an answer to that captain. You are correct. My son is a citizen of New Vulcan, yet his rights as a Vulcan citizen were simply ignored. I will admit that this troubles me. He should have been allowed a consultation with a Vulcan mind healer. Yet, from what I understand…this was not done."

"No it sure as hell wasn't. They wouldn't even allow it. Something about it not being admissible in Spock's case because the victim was human, but if I'd known about your situation Ambassador, I would have tried to go around you. Why didn't anyone tell me about you being in the hospital?" Kirk thundered. He still needed an answer for that particular question.

"It is not our custom, Captain Kirk, to share such information with outworlders, even other Vulcans. Matters such as these are kept private and within the family." Sarek explained plainly.

"But Spock _is_ family! You said this happened two days before he was arrested? Why wasn't _he _informed that your condition had escalated? I get that you didn't want him to know, but you going to the damn hospital kind of nullifies that, don't you think?"

"As I have previously stated, I had requested beforehand that if such an event were to occur, my son would not be made privy to it until—,"

"What—until you died?" Kirk finished for him rather sardonically. There went the eyebrows again.

"I would not phrase it so crudely captain, but you are correct."

Kirk didn't have anything to say to that, it was stated so…so matter of factly, and for a few seconds, everyone just stood there in silence. It was Uhura's smooth, quiet voice which grabbed everyone's attention.

"You still should have informed him Ambassador. I knew—_know_—your son well…and no matter how much he may convince you that he does not feel anything for you…I can assure you that he does. And it would have hurt him deeply to experience your passing, and not have known anything about it." Uhura explained evenly. Sarek regarded her thoughtfully for a few seconds before speaking.

"Perhaps…you are right Miss Uhura. It is a possibility that I may have erred in this regard." He said, and it was as close to an apology as they were going to get. The two shared yet another lengthy stare before Sarek shifted his gaze back to Kirk.

"Captain, on my flight here, I attempted to access more information regarding the location of the penal colony which my son was sent too. However, I was unable to do so. Do you have an explanation for this?"

Kirk sighed again.

"You couldn't access it because they wouldn't tell us where they were sending him. Said it was classified. In fact, I was hoping since you were an Ambassador and all, you'd be able to get that information." Kirk supplied hopefully. Sarek actually looked mildly disappointed at this news, which really meant he was pretty fucking annoyed by it.

"I will make another attempt with the head of Starfleet, Admiral Komack. Withholding the whereabouts of my son is a violation of his rights as a Vulcan citizen. I will not stand for it." He stated firmly, but the anger did not go unnoticed. The Vulcan was furious.

"Well look at that Jim! Finally someone with a little bit of power willing to help Spock out." McCoy expressed sardonically, his obvious reference to Admiral Conroy written all over his face. Sarek looked pointedly at the Doctor in what was almost a disdainful glare.

"Spock is my son Dr. McCoy, and despite what Starfleet has formally charged him with, I find it most difficult to accept that he is capable of murder. I too, in addition to all three of you, believe him to be innocent." He stated with fierce sincerity. Kirk's heart fluttered in relief at the Vulcan's admission. It meant Sarek was on their side, and was going to fight for Spock, and they could use a logical mind in this mess.

"So…does that mean you're going to help us find out who framed Spock?" Kirk asked hopefully. He already knew that Sarek would help them, but he wanted to hear the Vulcan say it.

"Indeed Captain Kirk. I will endeavor to assist you with your investigation."

"Ambassador that's great!" Kirk exclaimed in relief, resisting the urge to slap the man on the shoulder in appreciation. If Sarek had been Spock, he would have done just that. But something told him the Vulcan standing here now wouldn't take it the same way Spock always did.

"You really don't know what this means to us!" Uhura said meaningfully. Sarek nodded simply at her in acknowledgement.

"I must excuse myself Captain Kirk, so that I may request an audience with Admiral Komack. Do you wish to accompany me?"

Kirk glanced at Bones. "Uhhh…given that the last time I saw Komack…he was having me arrested for Contempt of Court…it's probably a good idea I keep my distance from him for now. I think you'll stand a better shot going solo." Kirk said, and Sarek raised an eyebrow.

"Going solo?—Ah, I understand…very well, I will be in contact captain. You can expect to hear from me no later than seventeen hundred hours this evening." Holding his hand up in the customary Vulcan _ta'al_, Sarek bid farewell to the trio and departed.

"Well…for a minute there I wasn't sure how that was going go, but I think it went alright. Nobody was throttled." Bones commented dryly, obviously hinting back to the time when Spock lost it with Kirk on the bridge during the Narada incident. Kirk felt his face redden at the memory from what happened earlier in the lobby. He hadn't throttled anyone, but he'd been damn near to it.

"Well, you're right…no one was _throttled_, but I admit that I did lay a punch or two on him in the lobby…" Kirk admitted guiltily. Both Bones and Uhura turned to him, eyes wide with shock.

"You did WHAT?" Bones exclaimed. Kirk glared at him defensively.

"Hey! This was back when I thought he had completely blown Spock off! You've got to admit Bones, if he _had_ intentionally ignored the situation, he would've deserved much more than a couple of punches to the face." Kirk defended, his arms crossed.

"…I suppose you're right, but you're damn lucky you didn't end up being court martialed. Sarek's an _Ambassador_ Jim; you've really got to watch your ass next time."

"Oh save the lecture, Bones. I don't want to hear it right now."

"Well you're certainly not going to do Spock any favors by sitting in another holding cell again." Bones countered further, earning him a sharp glare from Kirk.

"Do you think Komack will tell him where they sent Spock?" Uhura asked, changing the subject. She was obviously tired of hearing them argue back and forth.

"I think he will. This isn't just Spock's father—Sarek is an Ambassador—and I have no doubt he can be persuasive. Especially when Sarek mentions how many Vulcan rights the Council just shit all over and ignored." Kirk encouraged, yet he still had his doubts. _Would_ Komack tell Sarek where Spock was? What if Admiral Komack was one of the people tied in with all this? That thought alone sent a chill down Kirk's spine. He had barely survived his run in with the last corrupted Head of Starfleet. He wasn't sure he could deal with another…especially without Spock here to help him. Uhura was obviously thinking along the same lines as him, judging by the anxious look in her eyes.

"It'll be fine Uhura. I bet you by the end of the day, we'll know where Spock is right down the numbered coordinates." He reassured her firmly. _And then I'll be that much closer to getting him the hell out and into my arms._

Well, metaphorically anyways. He still wasn't convinced that Spock would in any way reciprocate his feelings beyond that of an epic friendship. Yet that wasn't important right now. Getting Spock out of prison…that's what was important.

_If anyone can get some answers…Sarek can, _Kirk repeated to himself as convincingly as possible, and as the day wore on…he actually started to believe it.

((oOo))

Therefore, it came as no surprise that Kirk was rather hopeful when seventeen hundred hours came along, and Sarek commed him on the communicator, asking if he could come visit him at his apartment to relay the information he had gathered. The Vulcan gave no hints as to whether he would come bearing good news or bad news. But that didn't mean anything. It wasn't like a Vulcan was going to sound excited, or disheartened or anything like that.

Upon hearing his door chime, Kirk all but ran to let the Vulcan inside.

"Captain Kirk." Sarek greeted impassively.

"Ambassador." Kirk returned as professionally as possible, still feeling like a sack of shit for beating the man up earlier. "Please…come inside." Kirk stood aside and motioned for the elder to come in. He bid Sarek to take a seat and offered to get him a drink, but the Vulcan declined rather dismissively. For a few moments no one said anything, and Kirk idly wondered if he was waiting for Bones or something.

"Uh…if you're waiting for Bones, he's over at the medbay, they're short on doctors this week." Kirk supplied, and at the quirked eyebrows, decided to elaborate further. "Uh sorry. I meant to say Dr. McCoy. Bones is just a nickname—or uh—it's just another alias he goes by." Kirk finished, feeling embarrassed now that he couldn't even get a sentence out correctly.

"Doctor McCoy's presence is not necessary captain, you are the one that I would speak with."

_Okay, so what's the holdup?_

"So…were you able to talk to Admiral Komack?" Kirk asked hurriedly, not realizing till now that he was afraid of the answer. At his question, the Vulcan actually narrowed his eyes. _Not a good sign, _Kirk thought anxiously to himself as he sat up more rigidly.

"I was able to gain an audience with the Admiral, and aside from his profuse attempts at offering his sympathies to me in regards to the incarceration of my son, he would not reveal to me his location." Sarek replied, and there was a hint of anger in his voice. Immediately Kirk rose from his seated position on the couch.

"What?! But!—you're the Vulcan Ambassador!" Kirk exclaimed loudly, half expecting the elder to reprimand him for his emotionalism, thankfully he did not. "Not only that! But Spock's your _son?! _And you said yourself that he's a Vulcan citizen! What about that fact? He can't just ignore that!_" _

"To address your first complaint, that was precisely the admiral's reasoning for not giving me the information which I requested. He informed me that he believed me to be too _personally involved_ to be trusted with such information should I attempt to extract him myself." Sarek replied disapprovingly. He could tell that Komack had obviously insulted the Vulcan greatly with this assumption.

"What break him out of prison?" Kirk questioned in disbelief. Sarek might be Spock's father, but he couldn't imagine in his wildest dreams any Vulcan doing something like that. It went against everything they believed in.

_I on the other hand…_

"I assume that is what the admiral believed I might attempt, despite my assurances that such a thing would be illogical." Kirk bit his tongue on that one, for if _he knew _where Spock was, he wouldn't hesitate in breaking his friend out, especially given that he was innocent, but he knew that Vulcan's had very different opinions on what was logical and what wasn't.

"Now to address your second complaint…I did inform him that since Spock is Vulcan, and a citizen of the Vulcan people, that our Government had a right to know the details surrounding his imprisonment." Sarek added.

"And that didn't convince him?" Kirk blurted out. If anything…he'd been counting on that card to work.

"He informed me that while Spock may be a Vulcan, and while he may be a citizen of Vulcan, he is first a Commanding Officer in Starfleet, charged with First-Degree Murder of a human being, and citizen of Earth, and any information regarding his punishment and sentencing is to be provided at the discretion of Starfleet."

Kirk was visibly fuming by now. His hands clenched into tight, pressure-white fists.

"What? Are you kidd—that's _bullshit!" _He yelled.

"Despite the emotionalism in your statement Captain Kirk, I find that I agree with you. I find this entire ordeal illogical."

On any other day, Kirk would have been shocked by the blatant admittance of emotion, but he was far to pissed to pay any attention to it. He had been counting on Sarek being successful, and possibly even getting visitation rights to his son, but that door had been slammed shut, and it hurt to think about it.

"Is there nothing that New Vulcan can do?" Kirk asked desperately.

"I have sent word to T'Pau, asking for her assistance. She has…taken Starfleet's stance on this." Sarek replied, the hurt in his voice was palpable.

"What the fuck does that mean? She's a Vulcan! Spock's Vulcan! Why does she not want to help him?" Kirk yelled in disbelief. What the fuck was wrong with the world?

"I believe…that had Vulcan not been destroyed, the events of today would have happened differently captain. However, the survival of New Vulcan still depends greatly on Starfleet's continued assistance."

"You think Starfleet is threatening New Vulcan?" Kirk voiced as disgust washed through him at the mere thought of it.

"I did not say that captain, but I can neither confirm nor deny your accusation. While I do not believe that Starfleet has verbally threatened such a thing…T'Pau has no doubt taken the thought into consideration." Sarek answered.

_And so there it is…my last fucking hope to lean on._

Desperately trying to think of a way to salvage the situation, Kirk began pacing the living room as Sarek watched him impassively. "We should go back and talk to him, I can go with you this time…help you reason with him…" Kirk offered, but the Vulcan shook his head.

"To make such another attempt would be an illogical use of time captain, the admiral has made up his mind." Kirk snapped his head at Sarek and glared at him.

"So that's it then? You gave it your best shot and now you're gonna call it a day?" Kirk accused icily. Sarek looked at him sharply, his eyebrows raised in that Spock-like fashion.

"On the contrary Captain Kirk. I still intend to offer my aid into your unofficial investigation. I have brought myself up to speed on the details surrounding this entire case through Starfleet's databases. Now I would like to hear your version of the events." Sarek inquired in a determined voice.

_Well, at least he's not quitting on me…unlike the rest of Spock's fucking planet. _

Kirk spent the next half hour explaining everything that had happened from the night at the bar, all the way up to the emotional farewell he had given his friend in the hallway before they took him away. Albeit, leaving out the more romantic undertones he had painted on the situation_._ Something told him Spock's father wasn't quite ready to hear about the undying love he felt towards his son. Another day perhaps. But not this one.

Throughout his entire recount, Sarek remained silent and as still as a statue. At first, Kirk was hesitant of revealing to the all-too-stoic Vulcan Spock's more emotional side. But he found that the Vulcan listened intently, and made no expressions of disapproval throughout the entire conversation.

"It is most curious about the holovid, which I have yet to see. The footage you speak of was not made available to me through the database. I will contact a Vulcan Healer and inquire into the nature of Vulcans that experience amnesia. I admit to not having any previous knowledge on such cases occurring within our race." Sarek stated curiously.

"Yeah that's what Admiral Conroy said."

"Admiral Conroy? Of the Federation Council?" Sarek inquired. Kirk raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah, he was one of the few there that actually believed Spock…you know 'em?"

"I do not know him personally; I only know that he is a member of the Federation Council."

Kirk visibly deflated at the unremarkable confession. He could always count on Vulcans to point out shit that didn't matter.

"Oh." He answered despondently. Sarek was just about to reply when the older man suddenly shifted forward in his seat, almost like something had discomforted him. Eyes shut tightly, the elder placed his fingertips gingerly on his temple. Kirk felt his heart leap with panic.

"Ambassador? Are you okay?" Kirk asked fearfully. Convinced that the man was experiencing another heart attack, he abruptly rose from his seat. "I'm calling Bones—," he began frantically, already reaching for his communicator. Sarek however, held up one finger to signal that he just needed a moment. Kirk halted his hand, but let it remain hovering just over his pocket where his communicator rested, just in case the Vulcan suddenly collapsed.

A few seconds later, Sarek opened his eyes and regained his rigid posture. Kirk stared at him cautiously.

"Are you sure you're okay? Is it your heart?" Kirk questioned warily as he leaned forward, ready to catch the Vulcan if he needed to.

"I assure you, I am well captain, and it was not my heart causing the…_discomfort."_ Sarek replied, no trace of pain in his tone. Kirk raised an eyebrow.

"Then…what was it?"

"It is not custom for Vulcans to share this information with outworlders. However, I know the high regard Spock has for you Captain Kirk, and therefore I will make an exception in this instance."

Kirk eyed him circumspectly, completely clueless as to what the man was talking about.

"Has my son ever informed you about the telepathic bonds Vulcans share among members of their immediate family?"

"Uh…I mean, I know a little bit about it I guess…Uhura explained that it's something they—well…that you guys do when you get married and all that. Sort of provides some kind of mental link to the other?" Kirk offered weakly. He had to admit he really didn't know a great deal about the inner workings of Vulcan culture…that was more up Uhura's alley, being that she was the one who had dated one for some odd years.

Though what he wouldn't give to be connected to Spock mentally right now.

"That is the nature of it, in essence. However, in addition to bondmates, which is what Miss Uhura was referring to, we are also bonded to our offspring, and they to their parents. It is not as strong, nor as clear as the mental link between bondmates, but nevertheless, it is possible to communicate with one another." Sarek endeavored to explain. Kirk's eyes widened as he took the magnitude of what the elder had just said.

"Wait a minute. You're telling me you can communicate with Spock? Like Telepathically? Have you been talking to him?" Kirk questioned eagerly.

"It is not quite that simple captain, for we are not bondmates. Whenever a Vulcan child is in distress, emotional or physical, the parent is able to receive these emotions through the telepathic link, provided they are strong enough. It is not precise words or conversation like bondmates might share with one another, instead…it is like being stimulated by whatever emotion the distressed individual is experiencing. It also works this way from the parent to the child. However, being that my mental shields are stronger than Spock's, I am able to keep my…_emotions_…from him. Hence why he was unaware of my cardiac arrest on New Vulcan." Sarek explained as humanly as he could so that Kirk could comprehend it.

Kirk sat in thought for a few seconds, wondering what it would be like to feel the emotions—the pain—of your loved ones. That's when it dawned on him that the reason for Sarek's discomfort had nothing to do with the older Vulcan, but instead, had everything to do with Spock. He felt his blood run cold.

"Are you saying…do you mean that whatever just happened, whatever you just felt…that…that was _Spock?" _Kirk asked reluctantly, not wanting to hear the answer.

"Indeed Captain Kirk. Since I have awoken from my healing trance, I have been getting random signals through my bond with Spock, but they were not strong enough to cause any discomfort. What you have just witnessed is the strongest I have ever received from him except on two previous occasions, one of which was the moment of your death aboard the Enterprise." Sarek admitted as he looked pointedly at Kirk.

Kirk averted his gaze to the floor at the memory of what happened on the engineering deck of the Enterprise. He knew how much pain his death had caused his friend. Uhura had told him about it later.

"Does that mean…does that mean Spock is in pain? Is he hurt?" Kirk asked in a whisper, not able to bear the thought of someone abusing his friend, especially when he couldn't do a damn thing about it.

"I cannot say captain. I do not know. As I said, they are only inaudible signals, I cannot dissect the nature of them, I can only feel how they affect the one transmitting them."

"Does Spock know he's transmitting them to you?"

"I will have to assume that he does not. Most individuals are unaware of what they send through the bond, as it is a natural reflex among our people." He stated. Kirk nodded in understanding. "Although if my son were to reach out to me knowingly, whatever message I might receive would undoubtedly be stronger and more clear than one he did not mean to send."

Kirk looked up at him.

"So all Spock would have to do is want to talk with you? Like…in his head?"

"Essentially, though I must admit captain. I find these episodes troubling. I do not wish for them to continue." Sarek admitted, his eyes suddenly appearing very tired. Kirk felt a pang of pity for the man, and was grateful that it wasn't him in that situation…he was already emotionally unstable as it was. To have to deal with another's pain and suffering?

"Trust me Ambassador, I don't either, which is why we need to clear Spock's name as soon as possible." Kirk said very seriously, his eyes leveled at the Vulcan's.

"That would be agreeable captain. What is your next course of action?"

**A.N The next chapter we get to hear from Spock again, and how he adjusts to his new 'prison life' Please let me know what ya'll think! I know Kirk is pretty emotional right now...but, this is Spock we're talking about here. I'd imagine he's kind of upset right now. **


	8. New Kid On The Block

**A.N. WARNING! VIOLENCE AND TORTURE DEPICTED**

**Also, there is just a tiny bit of Klingon language depicted...it's translated at the end of the chapter in the notes though. I used an online database for it, so I can only assume it's correct. If there are any Klingons reading, feel free to correct me :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek! **

When Spock re-materialized, he found himself standing in a small, diminutive cell. It could not be more than six by eight feet in size, and was completely encased in gaunt, grey stone oddly reminiscent to the material utilized in the prison cells found in Earth's history. The walls were coated with varying types of graffiti that appeared to be words and symbols transcribed in all manner of alien languages. This led him to believe that his cell had come across many different occupants, which was not necessarily a positive thing. For a penal colony housing only those inmates that were serving a life sentence, one would assume they would inhabit their cell for the duration of that sentence. Therefore, Spock concluded that either the prison was far older than he had anticipated, or the life expectancy of an inmate was severely brief.

Directly across from him lay a graying cot of questionable quality, a tattered, discolored blanket lay strewn carelessly across it. This was most obviously the bed that had been provided to him. It would definitely be a far cry from his bed on the _Enterprise_, but it would have to do. Directly behind him and to the left was a commode and simple wash basin, which upon further inspection, was far from sanitary. The commode—he would_ not_ be sitting on anytime soon.

Aside from the cot, commode, and sink, there was nothing else in his cell except for the opening directly to the right of him. Spock noted that it was equipped with force field barriers—though none were active at the time—and on its left-hand side was a retinal scanning unit attached to the wall. _You will present yourself for the roll call every night at lights out, which consists of an optic scan, _the Warden had instructed him. There on the wall was obviously where he would perform said _roll call._

_So this is to be my final home, _Spock thought despondently, and quickly cursed himself for being so emotional. The sounds of voices brought him from his musings, and he canted his head in the direction of the source. It was definitely coming from outside his cell.

_The Prison Pop._

Spock observed from inside his cell as beings of differing species passed back and forth, oblivious to the fact that he was standing just inside. They obviously were not aware of his arrival, and if they were, they did not care.

As he thought about what lay outside, he felt a rare twinge of nervousness course through him. A fact which shamed him, but existed nonetheless. For one thing, not only was he a former high-ranking officer in Starfleet—a fact which already formed the basis for severe dislike—but he was also a Vulcan. And in Spock's experience, there were not many races out there that held Vulcans in high regard. However, he could not hide what, or who he was. Sooner or later, he would have to leave this cell and integrate himself with the rest of the prisoners.

Permitting himself a lengthy, deep breath, Spock stepped out of his cell, and into the _Prison Pop_.

The _Prison Pop_ itself was rather like a large tunnel with no windows expanding off into several directions. It reminded him of the tunnels utilized on Earth for underground transportation, only this environment contained cells instead of vehicles. He was not certain where the tunnels would lead him—but he could assume that a mess hall, as well as at least a sanitation room, existed somewhere in the vicinity of the prison.

Near the ceiling of the tunnel, and carefully out of reach of any of the inmates, Spock could make out small, closed off balconies which appeared every fifty feet or so; and on those balconies stood a Doradus Guard—phaser in hand—standing watch over the inmates down below. Some stood in twos, talking or laughing amongst one another, whilst others stood solo, a human slump in their shoulders indicating that they were bored. It was obvious that the balconies here on Doradus would act like the watchtowers erected in some of Earth's prisons.

In addition to being dark, and damp; the atmosphere also carried with it the same stark chill that Spock had felt up above; he would not find warmth here. That was unfortunate. The air was also quite stale, and carried with it a foul stench that Spock could not place. He assumed that over time, he would grow accustomed to it, as he had little choice in the matter.

Deciding that he had lingered long enough, Spock took a step forward to begin exploring what would be his home for the rest of his life.

At first, no one seemed to notice him, but as he continued on he started drawing more attention to himself. From what he could discern, most of the inmates at Doradus Prime were members of non-Federation species. Klingons, Cardassians, Orions, and Romulans—a scarce few of which were surprisingly female—made up the majority of those he observed as he walked through the mildly populated tunnels. Every so often, he would stumble upon a lone Andorian, or a scant few individuals from other races that were a part of the Federation. He even walked past a small group of human males huddled close together around a card game of some sort. When they noticed him, their eyes widened in befuddlement, and some even had their mouths open in shock.

He had expected to find more human beings present, but aside from the lone group he had seen…they were quite scarce, especially in comparison to the rest of the population. Up until this moment, Spock had not been aware that the Federation separated its' prisoners based on choice of government, or citizenry. And, if this were a penal colony established solely for the purpose of imprisoning non-federation members…then why were there human beings here in the first place?

While that thought was slightly disturbing—it was not what Spock found to be the most unsettling so far. For the fourth time now since he had began his trek through the _Prison Pop, _he was met with the sight of inmates who were either severely malnourished—like they had not eaten in quite some time—or inmates who appeared to be suffering from some form of medical ailment. This was what really concerned Spock. He expected the Federation to take proper care of its' prisoners…not let them starve or suffer in illness. What kind of place was this? And _why_ would a Federation penal colony break so many regulations?

After turning yet another corner, and quickly venturing past a particularly unruly group of Klingons of questionable intent, Spock finally arrived at what he concluded to be the mess hall. Numerous metal tables, at least forty to fifty, lay scattered about the large expanse of room, each one of them at full occupancy. He must have arrived during the allotted morning meal. Spock errantly thought of the starving inmates still lingering out in the tunnels. Would they not partake in this meal?

As with the tunnels, the mess hall also contained the security guarded balconies near the ceiling. Looking past the various tables, Spock noted that at the back of the room was the food line and kitchen area. Judging by the predominantly female prison staff standing on the other side of the food line—ladling food into the bowls of inmates', Doradus did not have replicators. He assumed that the colony's meals were prepared by hand, by the inmates in a separate area, and then served as was the case now.

The longer he stood observing the mess hall, the quieter the room became as they began to notice him. Almost all conversation halted immediately as every eye turned to regard him, some with hostility, and others with open curiosity. Spock pondered what would be the logical thing to do at this moment. He knew that if this was to be his new home, he would have to attempt to integrate himself into the population. Therefore, the first logical step would be to duplicate their routine.

Remaining impassive, Spock gracefully walked past the gawking tables, and back towards the food line. A few Orions who were lingering just outside the line, parted for him while eyeing him without an ounce of shame. Spock nodded politely to them—he received no responding gesture—and acquired a small bowl from a storage unit which held varying dishes and utensils. That task completed, he turned and took his place in the lengthy line.

While a few still openly stared, most of the inmates had already lost their interest and resumed their previous conversations with one another. As the line progressed, Spock got a chance to finally examine what was to be his sustenance from this point on. It definitely did not look aesthetically pleasing, or entirely edible…but…it would have to do.

When his turn came to, he repeated the gesture of the male alien—whom Spock could not identify—in front of him, and held out his bowl. On the other side of the line stood a hefty female Klingon holding a large ladle. With her eyes narrowed into slits, she thrust a grayish-brown, mucousy porridge ungracefully into his bowl, the force of which caused a sizable portion of it to spatter his shirt. Spock glanced from his soiled shirt, back to the Klingon who had served him.

"DIvI' ghargh!" She hissed acidly, and it was the first verbal insult he had received in this place aside from the Warden and his men.

_So it begins._

"Thank you." He addressed the Klingon evenly before moving forward in the line. At the end of it, there was a scanner which the other inmates were placing their numerical tattoos underneath. Spock peered down at his own—newly received tattoo. The flesh surrounding it was still green and inflamed, and a slight stinging sensation still ran throughout it, but it would heal adequately. He would obviously use this number to purchase his meals.

Spock's eyebrows furrowed together in the first show of emotion he had shown since entering the mess hall. He had not acquired any credits yet, and he doubted that Starfleet had let him keep the credits he had acquired from his employment with them. Would he be able to eat?

Errantly his thoughts turned back to the starving prisoners lining the walls in the tunnels. Would that be his fate some day?

When it was his turn to place his arm under the scanner, Spock did so impassively, but inside he was anxious. The scanner emitted a stark blue light onto his wrist, giving it an eerie hue, and after two point three seconds, the light turned green as it had with the previous inmates who had gone through before him. He took this to mean that he would able to keep his meal. Perhaps he was being allotted a period of leeway so that he could begin his duties in the mines. This seemed like the most logical answer, but Spock could not help wondering what color it emitted in the event that he _did not_ have the credits?

Once that was accomplished, he turned back to face the mess hall, searching for a place to seat himself. However, everywhere he looked he was met with disdainful stares. It was reasonable to assume that no one wanted him sitting at their tables, and he wondered whether or not he would find anywhere to sit that did not involve getting into a confrontation.

Fortunately, just before he decided to eat his meal standing up, a large group of Cardassians seated a few tables to the left stood up to make their leave. They regarded him cryptically as they spoke to one another—though despite his Vulcan hearing, Spock could not hear them. The Cardassian near the middle—a tall, gray-skinned, broad reptilian-like male—fixed him with a ravenous glare which caught him off guard. A Cardassian female stood closely next to him, whispering into his ear as she toyed with the flesh surrounding it. The male listened intently before turning back to the female who—now—had brought her attention to rest on Spock. Her dark, penetrative eyes gave off a seductive glint which he also found unsettling to say the least. The pair exchanged a few more hushed words before the group finally dispersed and waltzed out of the mess hall, pushing and shoving a few loner inmates out of their way as they walked.

Spock wasted little time in securing himself a seat at the recently vacated table. Eyeing the substance in his bowl, Spock was unsure if he should eat it or not. For one thing, it held a strange odor, and its' color alone made it questionable. _It is the only food source available, sooner or later, you will have to eat it, _he tried to reason with himself. However, not being on the brink of starvation just yet due to the fact that Vulcans could go quite a while without sustenance, it was easier to turn down unappetizing food sources.

Just as he was about to push the bowl away from himself, a well-toned, rather large male Romulan with pale, gaunt skin sat down across from him, a mischievous smirk on his face. He was without his blue, penal-issued shirt, which only made the massive Romulan _Bird of Prey_ tattoo on his pale chest stand out all the more. He was completely devoid of any hair on his head save for the upturned eyebrows, and his eyes were coal black, and held a particular mirth within them. Spock did not have to be a telepath to know that the Romulan in front of him held a furious hatred for him. It was an emotion—Spock suspected—he was going to have to come terms with.

Six more Romulans took seats beside and around Spock, successfully surrounding him. He did not miss what they were trying to do, which was effectively trap him from all vantage points. Spock let his muscles tense slightly, preparing himself for a fight if it came to that.

"If it was not for that despicable haircut your kind wears, I never would have believed that you could be a Vulcan. I mean, a _Vulcan_ in Doradus Prime? Now _that _is outrageous!" The Romulan joked, causing his comrades to chuckle. Spock said nothing as he continued to stare at the Romulan evenly.

"Now…I find myself curious…just how does a Vulcan—the _one_ race that can do absolutely no wrong—end up in the Federation's worst penal colony?" The Romulan inquired sarcastically. Spock continued to sit in silence. Conversing with the males in front of him would likely not provide any logical, nor desirable outcome. The Romulan smirked.

"A silent Vulcan? Well, now I have finally seen everything!" He laughed; the others joined him yet again with more enthusiasm. He then eyed Spock's bowl mischievously, obviously still searching for ways to irritate the Vulcan. "Since you are not eating this, you would not mind if I just…help myself, would you?" He asked, not really waiting for an answer as he stretched his hand out to grab the bowl. Without a moment's hesitation, Spock grasped his bowl firmly, and brought it close to him as he glared at the Romulan in front of him.

"I do mind." He answered decisively, not wanting to give them the impression that he could be easily '_pushed around'_. The other Romulans in the group gazed hungrily at the scene before them, clearly excited by the tension that was now in the air which could transpire into a physical altercation at any moment.

"So, you do speak." The Romulan stated simply as he retracted his hand. Spock raised an eyebrow.

"Given the knowledge that my larynx is functioning adequately, I do not see why I would not be able to speak without difficulty." Spock replied simply.

"If Lokar crushes your larynx, you will not be doing much speaking then!" The Romulan beside him spat angrily as he rounded on Spock, eyes blazing.

"Calm yourself T'Alam, there will be plenty of time for that later." The Romulan now identified as Lokar, instructed his comrade. T'Alam shot Spock one last glare before nodding in understanding to Lokar. "I'm sure, just like everyone else in this place, our Vulcan friend is here for the long haul, and for a Vulcan…that is quite a _looong_ haul if you catch my meaning." He added icily as he made to stand up, the others followed his lead.

"Besides—," He began loudly as he started to walk away, his posse in tow. "Judging by the way those Cardassians were eyeing you over, we are not the only ones you need to watch out for," and with that, the group of Romulans; Lokar at the front, exited the mess hall as well. Spock remained staring after them, contemplating what their next meeting would entail.

"_Phew_, that was a close one." A confident voice sounded and Spock snapped his head back around to investigate the source. The owner of the voice was a young human male, who was currently engaged in the process of setting his own bowl of barely passable sustenance down on the table across from him, his hands shaking as he did so. Spock wondered briefly if the action was involuntary.

Once he was settled, he looked up at Spock with a wry smile—which was agonizingly familiar to his captain's own grin—before he attacked his forehead with the palm of his hand.

"Shit, I'm sorry, is it okay if I sit here?" He requested apologetically. Spock studied the youth before him with a raised eyebrow. He could not have been much older than Lieutenant Chekov. In fact, Spock was sure the young man had yet to see twenty standard Earth years. His skin had a pale pallor to it, much like the other inmates here; and he was mildly malnourished. Not to the extent of the prisoners he had seen out in the tunnel, but still enough to draw Spock's notice. Cuts and bruises littered his entire body, and, despite the fact that he was now seated, his hands continued to shake.

"There is no need to apologize. It is acceptable for you to sit there." Spock replied simply, causing the young man to grin widely.

"Thanks. Anyway, when I saw those Romulans come over here, I thought they might try something." He said warily as he dipped his spoon into his bowl to bring the liquid meal to his mouth. "My name's Dalton by the way, Dalton Corwin, what's yours?" The man now identified as Dalton, asked enthusiastically before he swallowed his food.

Spock took a moment to contemplate the young human in front of him, his blond hair stopping just above his rounded ears, and his blue eyes much too large for his malnourished face. So far he had only been met with hostility and bigotry. The fact that the man in front of him was being…cordial with him, was enough to make him slightly cautious. However, in case the man's intentions were sincere, Spock did not want to be impolite.

"My name is Spock." He answered.

"Nice to meet you Spock." Replied Dalton as he thrust out his hand for Spock to shake. Spock stared at the outstretched hand, and made no move to shake it. He was already having a difficult time controlling his emotions as it were. The transference of Dalton's emotions to him would only increase that difficulty. Realizing that Spock wasn't going to return the gesture, his eyes widened with sudden realization.

"I'm sorry! I forgot Vulcans don't like to be touched!" He apologized profusely and hastily retracted his hand where he placed it hurriedly under the table as if it were diseased. Finally, here was someone who could match Dr. McCoy in his ability to overdramatize the situation.

"It is quite alright, no offense was taken." Spock assured him. He then became curious and canted his head. "May I ask you a personal query?"

Dalton smirked at him.

"Sure. Ask away."

"How long have you been an inmate at Doradus Prime?"

Dalton paused a short moment and peered up at the ceiling, as if the answer was lurking somewhere up there. Spock could not help but follow his line of sight, and when Dalton looked back at him and noticed where the Vulcan's gaze was pointed, he gave him a funny look before responding.

"…I think…I wanna say…two years maybe? I was seventeen when they put me here." He responded slowly, as if he wasn't sure of the answer. Spock nodded thoughtfully; resisting the urge to ask the man what crime he had been incarcerated for. Having just met Dalton, Spock barely knew him, but something about his mannerisms made it seem highly improbable that whatever crime he did commit, warranted a life time sentence. Suddenly a haggard voice sounded from nearby.

"Dalton! There you are!" An older, human man with graying long hair, and a robust beard exclaimed in relief as he walked rather speedily over to them. _Another human, _Spock pointed out to himself errantly. The man completely ignored Spock as he bounded over to Dalton, disappointment mixed with reprieve etched onto his face. Dalton, he noticed, rolled his eyes as the other man beckoned to him.

"We've been looking all over for you boy! Baker damn near had a heart attack when he thought you'd been taken to the Limbo Room! Goddammit when are you gonna learn not to wander off!?" He shouted vehemently, the older man's tone and choice of wording strongly reminded Spock of Dr. McCoy.

_Stop comparing other beings to your friends, _a voice chastised within him.

Dalton looked slightly abashed at being scolded while Spock mentally pondered what the _Limbo Room_ was, and why it warranted such a dramatic response from this human.

"I don't need a baby sitter." Dalton spat in embarrassment, his pale, sunken-in cheeks taking on an intense shade of red. The older man glared at him irately.

"The hell you don't, and who the _hell_ is this?" The man spat as he rounded on Spock, his rather small, beady eyes finally taking notice to the fact that he was sitting there. He focused in on his pointed ears before letting his gaze travel to the peculiar haircut that all Vulcans wore, and suddenly his eyes widened in disbelief.

"I would have pegged you for a Romulan at first glance, but they would _never_ wear their hair like that. But surely…surely you're not a…a _Vulcan!?"_ Placing a whispered emphasis on the word _Vulcan,_ the man began to lean in towards Spock, his eyes squinting as if to get a better look at him. Instinctively, Spock leaned backwards and away from the curious human in case he suddenly had the urge to reach out and touch him. He opened his mouth to correct the man and assure him that he was indeed, a Vulcan, but the excitable Dalton beat him to it.

"Of course he's a Vulcan, Jacques! What kind of a question is that? I've never actually met one in person, but I've seen them in holovids," He said enthusiastically and smiled largely at Spock, who was slightly curious as to how this young human maintained such exuberant emotions in a place like this.

The man's—Jacques'—inquisitive expression quickly transcended into one of annoyance as he rolled his eyes at Dalton. "I _know _he's a Vulcan obviously." He pointed out cynically, fixing the youth with a hard stare. "What I'm more concerned with is the fact that there is a Vulcan here at _Doradus_. Especially when the crime rate amongst you people is practically non-existent." He stated, his tone laced with icy accusation. "What exactly are you in here for?" He inquired further, looking at Spock suspiciously. Also curious to hear Spock's explanation, Dalton peered eagerly at the Vulcan.

"I fail to see how my own personal affairs are relevant to yours." Spock stated listlessly, earning an incredulous glare from Jacques. Spock glared right back.

"Dalton." Jacques said, never taking his eyes off of Spock who had continued to hold the man's gaze.

"Yeah?" Dalton answered, his eyes regarding Spock thoughtfully.

"I don't want you hangin' around with this guy, he's bad news." He ordered firmly. Dalton opened his mouth in protest.

"But—but he just got here! You—you don't even know him!" He argued defiantly. This enraged the older human.

"And I don't have to know him!" Jacques retorted immediately, his voice easily overpowering Dalton's, making him go silent. The volume of their conversation had started to draw the prying eyes and ears of inmates seated at neighboring tables. This did nothing to halt the man's rant however.

"You said you've never met a Vulcan kid? Well I can assure you that everyone in here has, and while the Federation may think of them as saints, Vulcans are _not _high on the popularity list around here. Sooner or later, trouble is going to find him, and you don't need to be around when it does." Jacques forewarned him ardently. Despite the various idioms utilized in Jacques' statement, Spock understood the man's word of caution, and found that—logically—he agreed with him. He had not even been on Doradus Prime an hour, and already three different alien races had been unreceptive to his arrival. The female Klingon for one, the Cardassians—while not having spoken to him personally, he knew they had been speaking about him—and of course…the Romulans. It was only a question of time before one of these factions would initiate another confrontation with him. Spock calculated in his head the chances of such an attempt occurring within the next twenty four hours…and they were not in his favor.

Dalton, whose mouth had been open midsentence in rebuttal, was silenced as Spock spoke.

"Mr. Jacques' logic is sound; I calculate the odds to be at ninety-seven point eight percent that I will be involved in a hostile—if not physical—confrontation with a fellow inmate and/or inmates. As I cannot deduce when this event will take place, It is only logical that you associate with me as scarcely as possible, so that you do not become an unwilling participant." He advised simply. Dalton stared at him in disbelief. Jacques however, was chuckling lightly, his arms folding around him in satisfaction.

"Well…there you have it kid. I couldn't have said it better myself, even if I were a Vulcan." He added humorously. Dalton glared at the man before his face became remorseful, and he gazed at Spock softly.

"Everyone needs someone in this place Mr. Spock." He muttered quietly, making Jacques' eyes widen yet again. Spock did not miss the flash of recognition that overtook the older human at the mention of his name. It was as if he had heard it before.

Rising from the table with his bowl, his eyes downcast, and shoulders slightly slumped, Dalton walked slowly to a large basin at the front of the mess hall where he deposited his bowl, and made his exit from the vicinity without looking back. Jacques lingered behind, his expression thoughtful. Spock assumed he was still pondering his name.

Despite trying to remain emotionally poised, Spock found himself growing slightly irritated at the man's refusal to leave his presence. It was illogical, as he barely knew him, but Spock did not like this human, and he wished to be free of his presence.

"Is there something more I can assist you with Mr. Jacques?" He inquired with feigned politeness; head tilted, and one eyebrow perked. The man laughed again. _Why does everyone find me so humorous? _

"I don't think so Mr. Spock…or, should I say, _Commander _Spock." Jacques replied thinly. So he had recognized the significance in his name. How many more would do the same? How famous—or, more correctly—how _infamous _was he here?

"If you'll let me though, I would like to give you a word of advice…" He paused a moment, waiting for Spock's consent. This irritated Spock, as the man would likely give his advice whether Spock elected to hear it or not.

"I will accept. Proceed."

Jacques smiled, but there was no amity in it.

"If I were you, I wouldn't throw that name around so carelessly." He stated. Spock raised both eyebrows.

"Explain." He added, though he could already deduce the human's meaning. However, he wanted to hear his hypothesis verbalized and confirmed. Jacques snorted at his reply and leaned down.

"In case you didn't notice, you're in a _Federation _prison, meaning that every inmate here was put here _by the_ _Federation!" _He hissed, and then paused a second to let his words sink in._ "_Something tells me when they find out one of Starfleet's best and brightest is _also _here…as one of them…they'll be out for that green blood of yours." He finished sincerely before exiting the mess hall as well. Spock stared after him, and pondered his words.

Appetite assuredly non-existent now, Spock decided to leave the mess hall and finish the rest of his exploration. Just as he was about to deposit his uneaten meal into the basin, he thought of the starving inmates probably sitting just outside the hall. It was not logical to dispose of perfectly edible, uneaten food when other beings could take benefit from it. Mind instantly made up, Spock carried the bowl with him—ignored the stares tracking him out of the mess hall—and came to stand before the first sickly, malnourished inmate he saw. It was an Orion, judging by the pale, green skin that only just clung to his bones, He could not be sure of the age, but the Orion was defnintiely geriatric, and gruesomely thin. Repulsed by the apparent conditions of this penal colony, Spock held back a frown, and gracefully leaned down until he was face to face with the Orion.

At first, the Orion did not take notice of him. His eyes—it seemed—were blank and unseeing. Risking his own shields, Spock held up his hand and touched the Orion on the cheek in an attempt to garner a reaction. The emotions he felt from the touch nearly caused him to falter from the sheer, overwhelming strength of them. There was such pain there in the link. Pain and suffering…and…a want for the end. Spock had never felt emotions like this, and they disturbed him. No sentient being—no creature for that matter—should ever feel like this.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to Spock…the Orion slowly came out of his stupor, and his eyes widened as he took notice of Spock standing there. Instinctively, the Orion held up his hands in a defensive stance and tried to recoil from the Vulcan. Spock retracted his free hand, he had not meant to frighten him.

"I am sorry for startling you. I am not here to cause you harm. I merely wish to give you this…" Spock reassured him softly as he held out the bowl full of porridge. Being that he had not been harmed yet, the Orion risked taking his arms down, and eyed the bowl suspiciously—as if he would never dare to believe someone was offering him food. "I assure you…I am not going to hurt you, please, accept this meal." Spock probed further as he set the bowl down in front of him. Seconds later, the Orion made a grab for it, brought the bowl to his mouth, and gulped the porridge down so hastily that bits of it trailed down his mouth and onto the floor.

Spock was disgusted. Not at the Orion, for he could not help the fact that he had been pushed to this point—but at Starfleet, and at the Federation—for allowing this to go on. He regarded the Orion thoughtfully for two point six more seconds before coming to the conclusion that there was nothing else he could do by lingering here. With one last glance at the Orion, Spock turned away, and continued on down the tunnel. He still had not seen all there was to see.

Doing his best to remain inconspicuous as he walked, he managed to discover the area designated for personal hygiene. It was severely crowded with inmates, all in differing stages of cleansing themselves. It shocked Spock that, instead of sonics, they were utilizing hydro-powered showering units. To employ such a method was highly unusual, wasteful, and did not make sense to him. Water was a luxury on most planets. The _Enterprise_ itself did not even offer the choice of a hydro-powered shower head. Yet here in a Federation penal colony…it was obviously offered.

Judging by how quickly people were scrambling to clean themselves however, Spock could only assume that the temperature was kept extremely low. Perhaps this was why water was used. If what he had seen so far was anything to go off of, Doradus had no qualms about exhibiting cruelty to their prisoners. Being that the penal colony was located on a planet consisting largely of ice and snow—water probably was not a scarcity, and could be easily obtained.

Spock shuddered involuntarily as he thought about what his own shower would be like in the future. Spock detested water greatly, being that he was from a desert planet, but he detested _cold_ water more than anything.

As Spock made his way further into the _Prison Pop_, he came to an area which rivaled the mess hall in size. Except this room—judging by the assortment of crude weight equipment, as well as other items one would utilize in a recreational activity—was most obviously a gymnasium of some sort. As his eyes lingered on a large Romulan engaged in a bench press, Spock became puzzled as to why Doradus would allow potentially dangerous weapons such as weight plates, and dumbbells to be utilized by the inmates, when they could very well be a potential weapon.

He glanced up to the balconies which lined the room, and met eyes with one of the guards standing there, phaser in hand. A Dumbbell would not do much against a phaser, and the guards were stationed too high, and were too numerous in number, for any sort of attack to logically take place.

He wasn't left to ponder on it long as the Romulan finished his set with a strained gasp, and sat up, his eyes boring straight into Spock's. Now that he was able to see his face much more clearly, Spock could discern that this was the Romulan who had spoken to him in the mess hall, Lokar.

Smiling mischievously at him, Lokar stood up, walked over to the weight rack, and added two more forty-fives to his bar, which already held eight plates all together. It was quite a substantial amount of weight. Lying himself back down on the bench, he began another set of twenty, appearing as if it was not difficult at all. Of course, Spock knew that Romulans were stronger than humans. However, despite sharing the same ancestry, they still did not possess the strength that a Vulcan did, even a half-Vulcan. Centuries upon centuries spent on Romulus; a planet that did not contain the type of gravity that Vulcan once did, had diminished the incredible strength that all Vulcans shared as a result.

As Spock watched Lokar complete two more sets, he knew that if the two engaged in a quarrel, Spock could easily overpower him. Perhaps Lokar knew this fact as well, and that was why the Romulan had yet to engage him physically. Not that he wanted him to. He would rather that violence be used as a last resort. It was not like violence had resulted in anything positive as of late.

Just as he was about to turn and make his way back to his cell to attempt a successful meditation, the familiar tugging of the transporter beams began to take hold of him. He looked up, and for the split second he had before his molecular structure split into a million pieces, he saw Lokar smiling eagerly at him, almost as if he had been waiting for this to happen…like he had anticipated it.

((oOo))

Spock materialized an instant later into the room he had been led in before being transported down into the _Prison Pop_. Hughes, Warden Brixton, and to his immense disdain—Jenkins—were waiting for him. Their hands held the same weapons that Brixton had used on Spock previously—the neuroelectric batons. Spock eyed the batons with a raised eyebrow, but remained silent. Brixton—having gathered what Spock was staring at—smiled largely, his teeth showing.

"If you cooperate, my guards won't have a need to use these on you." He informed him, pausing momentarily. "Can I count on your cooperation prisoner?"

"As I have not been made aware as to what activities will require my '_cooperation', _I cannot give you an affirmative answer." Spock knew what would happen as a result of a response like that, but he could not hold his tongue. It was the only power he still held, as everything else had been taken away from him.

Narrowing his eyes, Brixton motioned lightly with his hand. Hughes acknowledged the silent order, and immediately brought the neuroelectric baton out in front of him with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Stepping towards Spock, who made no move to shield himself; the man jabbed the baton roughly into his ribs.

The sharp force caused him to stumble to his knees and grab at his ribs gingerly as the electric pulse tore through his system. He refused to cry out though, and fortunately, as he was somewhat prepared for a response such as this, he did not have to grab his temples to re-center himself.

"You just couldn't resist the chance to sass me could you." Brixton spat as he snatched the baton out of the guard's hand and began fumbling with the settings.

"Now, I can raise the setting on this baton, making it much _much_ more effective, or you can come quietly." He threatened as he motioned to the door. Not wanting to test just how much control he had over his emotions today, Spock let himself be led to the door, and into a hallway, the guards flanking him at every possible point. Jenkins he noted, standing just a little bit too close for comfort.

The room he was eventually brought to was different than the rest. Instead of mimicking a dreary, underground factory, it resembled a Terran hospital. Various humans clad in medical scrubs and lab coats were either busy at computer stations, or engrossed in some scientific activity, which involved either test tubes, or microscopic investigations. Spock felt a slight pang at the sight. He was a scientist after all, and it was hard to come to terms with the fact that he would never be on the other end of a microscope again. He would never make the discoveries he had yearned to make. Everything he had set out to do in life…he would never do.

Logically, there were only two things this room was being utilized for. Firstly—_and Spock hoped this was the correct assumption_—this room served as the prison's sickbay. After all, prisoners still became ill. They still required vaccination. It was logical to assume that Doradus had an area designated to treat such afflictions and perform such tasks. If this were not the case, then Doradus was breaking yet another Starfleet regulation, and perform unethical experiments on their prisoners. Judging by the abhorrent odor of chemicals mixed with differing types of blood, as well as the apparent lack of patients, he regrettably leaned more towards the latter.

Noticing his entrance, several of the humans in the room lazily peered up at him. They were obviously used to the guards bringing inmates in here. However, most, if not all of them, did an immediate double take upon realizing that he wasn't like the other inmates. He was a Vulcan.

"Ah! Here's the Vulcan I've been waiting for!" a jubilant voice sounded from the other side of the room. Spock turned his head to notice an elderly man, most likely well into his late sixties, clothed in a long, flowing white lab coat bustling eagerly towards them. An audible groan sounded from Brixton, and Spock did not miss the slight eye roll the man expressed.

"Imagine my excitement when they informed me that a Vulcan was going to become a member of our…little _community_." The man continued as he came to a stop directly in front of Spock, his aged eyes looking him up and down, humming in satisfaction. "My my my…we _are_ a fine specimen aren't we…yes indeed." He said more to himself than to anyone. Spock could not help but feel slightly uncomfortable at being referred to as a _specimen_, but he did not let it show.

The next thirty seconds passed in awkward silence as the older man just continued to inspect Spock, muttering random thoughts aloud as he did so. Finally, the sound of Brixton clearing his throat rather audibly brought the man out of his musings. "Ah yes, thank you Warden, I believe my people can take it from here." He stated dismissively as he motioned to a couple of people in the room. Brixton's stance went rigid.

"With all due respect Dr. Edison, I'd rather stay…at least for this first time." Brixton insisted as the humans Dr. Edison had motioned to began busying themselves around Spock with tricorders. Sometimes they would touch him to move his arm out of the way, or to better see a certain aspect of his body. This greatly annoyed Spock. He did not wished to be touched, but again, there was nothing he could do about it. A flash of annoyance crossed the doctor's face as he regarded the Warden and his words.

"Nonsense Warden, I hardly think that will be necessary. He is Vulcan after all. They're not too keen on violence I thought?" He argued, turning his head back to Spock with a smile on his face. Brixton looked even more annoyed now.

"_Half_ Vulcan Doctor. And in case you weren't briefed ahead of time, this particular halfbreed is in here for murder. I assure you, he's quite capable of violence." Brixton informed Dr. Edison in all seriousness. The doctor peered at Spock warily this time as he considered what Brixton had said.

"Well…He _is_ half human after all, perhaps you are right Warden, one can never be too careful." He acknowledged, not taking his eyes off of Spock, who was inclined to reassure everyone in the room that he was not violent at all. However, seeing that it would not have any benefit, Spock remained silent.

"Well? Dr. Stevens?" Dr. Edison inquired as he turned his attention to one of the male humans who had been waving a tricorder intrusively up besides Spock's face at that moment. Dr. Stevens paused to respond to Dr. Edison.

"While his readings aren't exactly considered _normal _for a full Vulcan; due to his unique physiology from his duel heritage, they are considered quite normal for him." Dr. Stevens answered. Spock couldn't resist raising his eyebrow at Dr. Stevens. As far as he was aware, he was the only half Human/Vulcan hybrid in existence. Any medical information regarding his biological make up was hard to come by. He wondered where this man had acquired it so quickly.

"I see…and you're comparing this to…to Dr. Leonard McCoy's medical notes?" Dr. Edison said it more as a statement than a question.

"Of course Doctor."

Spock could not help himself.

"Excuse me—Dr. McCoy provided you with my medical files?" Spock questioned, allowing a small flicker of surprise to echo in his tone. Spock knew that access to those medical notes would have to be provided at the Doctor's digression, due to patient confidentiality. The speed at which the medical staff here at Doradus had acquired that information was alarming, given that he had just barely been sentenced and condemned to this place. It was almost as if they had already had it…

Aware of someone harshly jabbing him in the side, Spock abruptly turned to glare at Brixton who had narrowed his eyes. "Prisoners will not speak unless spoken to." He stated, a primal look in his eyes.

"Now now, let's not overreact here, he did ask politely after all." Dr. Edison cut in, narrowing his eyes at the Warden who looked ready to physically strike the old man. Dr. Edison turned blissfully back to Spock. "And to answer your question…I wouldn't say he _knowingly_ provided it, but we did extract the datafiles from his computer terminal on the Enterprise."

"I see." Spock responded curtly, noting the addition of yet _another_ Starfleet regulation being ignored. To think he had once believed Jim to hold the record for violating the most Starfleet protocols. Thinking of Jim, he wondered what his captain would think of everything going on here. How he might react.

Glancing at his watch, Dr. Edison huffed in exasperation. "My, look at the time! I'm afraid we really need to get cracking here." He exclaimed. "Dr. Stevens! Dr. Harken. Please prep the subject; I'd like to get samples analyzed before dinner, people!" He ordered impatiently as people began bustling around the room, attending to their duties. Spock did not have long to ponder on being referred to as a _subject_ before one of the doctors prodded him lightly on the back.

"Come with me." The one named Dr. Harken, a human with short, brown hair and a goatee ordered, and with a none-too light shove forward by Brixton, Spock followed. He was led through the room and through a back door which led to a smaller room. This one smelled of a cross between bleach, and antiseptic. A few metal tables lined the walls around it, and contained various medical instrumentation as well as a few PADDs. However, the tables were not what had caught Spock's attention. That feat belonged to the lone exam table directly in the middle of the room, a computer station beside it along with an array of instrumentation. And even more importantly…the restraints attached to the table…restraints intended to immobilize whoever lay on top of it. One could logically conclude that whatever was going on this room, it was not pleasant…which meant it was not ethical or legal.

"Welcome to the _Limbo Room_." He heard Brixton whisper beside him where the others could not hear, making it obvious that Dr. Edison and his team did not refer by such a name. _Baker damn near had a heart attack when he thought you'd been taken to the Limbo Room! _The exasperated words of Jacques came rushing back to him, and he could not help feeling slightly nervous. The feeling shamed him.

"Go sit on the table." Dr. Harken said. Spock complied, and walked the short distance to the table where he seated himself. The table was metal in nature—much like everything else here—which meant that it was starkly cold to the touch. Spock couldn't help the small goose-bumps that arose on his skin at the icy chill it gave off.

"Remove your shirt." Dr. Stevens prompted as he came to stand beside the table, and logged into the computer terminal. Spock obeyed, and was thankful that Jenkins and Hughes were not in the room anymore, especially Jenkins.

Dr. Stevens turned from the computer and drew a hypo out of his lab pocket. He moved so that he was directly in front of Spock and set him with a determined look.

"Now, I'm going to take some blood samples. Any funny business, and Warden Brixton over there is going to have to step in. Am I clear?" Dr. Stevens stated, his eyes boring into Spock's. _Funny business?_

"I find nothing humorous about this situation Mr. Stevens. Illegal medical procedures hardly are." Spock replied stoically, causing Dr. Stevens to blush slightly. Perhaps the human was experiencing guilt for what he was participating in here at Doradus Prime. Brixton however, was chuckling heartily from his place across the room.

"You and that smart mouth of yours…_oooh_ the trouble it gets you into…" He commented in a sing-song voice to no one in particular, but Spock knew better, he knew the Warden would get him back for it later. At this point, he hardly cared though. He was more focused on what was going on presently, and how it involved him.

Dr. Stevens motioned for Spock to hold his arm, he assumed so that he could take blood. As soon as the man grabbed a hold of Spock's arm, an intense wave of anger thrown in with the words—_I'llshowthispompoushalfbreedwhohethinkshe'stalkingtoo—_flooded through the link, prompting the Vulcan to hastily put up his mental shields to protect himself against the sudden onset of human emotion. It was difficult, as he had not properly meditated in quite some time.

Spock watched as the hypo began filling up with the emerald green liquid that was his blood, and when Dr. Stevens had gotten all that he had wanted, he unceremoniously ripped the needle from Spock's arm, not bothering to apply pressure to the injection site in order to clot the vein. He hadn't exactly taken the time to sterilize Spock's arm either before drawing blood, so it was only logical to assume that he wouldn't bother with the latter. Spock watched as green blood continued to drip from his arm, and the doctor did nothing to stop it.

"Lie down on the table." Dr. Stevens instructed robotically as he stuck the end of the hypo into a small vial, and deposited Spock's blood inside. He handed the vial to Dr. Harken, who then walked over to one of the tables lining the wall and—opening a centrifuge—placed the vial inside and set the machine to spin the blood into a serum that would enable it to be tested.

Doing as he was instructed, Spock gracefully laid his back down against the cold metal, ignoring the poignant chill the sudden contact brought about. No sooner had he laid down, there was Brixton grabbing his arms and forcing them into the restraints. Spock did his best to shield again against the vast array of negative emotions, but it was no use. It seemed like anger and disgust were emotions he would have to grow accustomed to.

Cinching the cuffs around Spock's wrists as tight as possible, the Warden then moved down and took care of his legs. He then—smiling brightly—moved up towards Spock's head and secured it in a restraint as well before patting him lightly on the cheek. Irritation, that was what Spock was feeling right now…extreme irritation at Brixton's blatant disregard for personal space. The inflamed portion on his wrist from the tattoo he'd received earlier rubbed painfully against the restraints, but Spock was careful to keep his face impassive.

"Thank you Warden." Dr. Stevens acknowledged as he brought out a PADD and began sifting through information.

"Are we ready to proceed gentlemen?" Dr. Edison asked optimistically as he came bounding into the room finally, looking at Spock approvingly in the process.

"I've collected a blood sample, Dr. Harken is spinning it now—," Dr. Stevens began.

"—Sample is done spinning. Serum is ready for the appropriate preliminary tests Doctor." Dr. Harken interrupted as he removed the vial from the centrifuge. Instead of the deep, dark emerald color it had been before, it was now completely clear with only a hint of green to it.

"Good good, go ahead and run them Dr Harken. Dr. Stevens? Let's you and I go ahead and get this show on the road." He stated as he clapped his hands together. Spock did not miss the unsettling eagerness in his voice. Dr. Stevens nodded in acknowledgement as he brought out another hypospray and injected it straight into Spock's neck. Whatever the substance was, it was thick, and slow moving. Both doctors watched his face expectantly as the liquid began running rampant throughout his bloodstream. Spock could feel the slight stinging sensation the unknown drug brought along with it, and while it wasn't painful, Spock found it mildly discomforting.

"Do you know what you've been injected with?" Dr. Edison asked him as happily as if he had asked about the weather.

"As you have not informed me of the drug's identity, I have no answer to your query." Spock retorted plainly as a slight feeling of constriction began engulfing his senses. The stinging sensation the drug had caused was getting increasingly stronger, but again, Spock did his best to ignore it. Dr. Edison laughed at his response, and marked something down on the PADD he had brought out in front of him.

"I must say, you certainly are a breath of fresh air compared to the usual trash I get in here." Brixton snorted at the doctor's evaluation of Spock, which caused Edison to snap his eyes up disdainfully.

"You don't agree Warden?" He inquired sweetly, yet with a hint of challenge in his tone.

"No. I don't. I think he's just being a smart ass." Brixton replied firmly from his position on the wall by the door. Spock allowed himself to inhale deeply as the feeling of constriction began to increase in strength. Now, not only did he feel like a weight was pressing down on him from every angle, but he was acutely aware of how difficult it had become to breathe. Focusing all his mental strength on his lungs, he attempted to will them into maintaining a normal respiratory rate. Dr. Stevens—who had been scanning Spock vigorously with his medical tricorder—entered some notes onto his PADD.

"Interesting…" He muttered in fascination. Spock did not like the echo his voice made when Dr. Stevens spoke, as if he was far away even though he was standing right beside him. Dr. Edison glanced at him, waiting for the doctor to elaborate. When he did not, Edison sighed in annoyance.

"For the love of God Dr. Stevens…_what's _interesting?"

Dr. Stevens snapped out of his trance, and hastily brought the PADD over for the other doctor to inspect.

"The Vasoinhibitor has succeeded in reducing the blood flow in his blood vessels, which in turn has placed the expected amount of stress on the organs. Already you can see here—," Dr. Stevens brought his hand up and pointed to something on the PADD, "—that his respiratory rate, and heart rate have steadily decreased due to lack of blood flow, but due to his Vulcan biology, he's manipulating his organs to fight off the effects of the drug, and…it's working." He finished, and suddenly they were both looking at him eagerly.

"Let's up the dosage." Dr. Edison prompted readily, but Dr. Stevens glanced at him warily.

"Are you sure Doctor? The dose was already at the max for his weight—," Stevens began to argue.

"Do it Stevens! I want to see just how long he's able to keep that up. If we're going to be crossing boundaries, we need to find out where they lie first."

Dr. Stevens nodded before bringing out yet another hypospray, and injecting it again into Spock's neck. _So that is the drug currently running through my veins? A Vasoinhibitor?_ Of course Spock knew what it was, and he could find no logical reason why it was being used on him now. To what purpose did it serve? Spock wanted badly to voice these questions aloud, to demand an explanation for this treatment. However, given that now the drug was working twice as hard in his system, he could not spare any energy to talk. Any energy he had, had to go into focusing on his organs, on his blood vessels, willing them to combat the drug.

"Harken! Bring that neuroscanner over!" Dr. Edison barked. Dropping his current project, Dr. Harken grabbed for a neuroscanner and sped over to the exam table, flinging the tiny machine right above Spock's head. Dr. Stevens was doing the same thing with his medical tricorder, only instead of waving it around his head; it was instead hovering over his chest and torso.

"His organs are maintaining Doctor, he's still able to combat the Vasoinhibitor's effects, even at twice the dosage." Dr. Stevens explained in slight awe.

"I'm not seeing that up here doctor, according to this, his neural activity is through the roof, and not necessarily in a good way either." Dr. Harken warned. Spock continued to struggle internally, not knowing how much longer he would be able to keep up this mental fortitude. Searching for a focal point to aid in his concentration, Spock could not help but catch the Warden's eyes. While everyone else's eyes in the room were glued to either PADDs, or a medical instrument, Brixton only had eyes for Spock. He was not smiling, nor was he scowling…he was just staring at him…calculating. It was almost as if he was waiting for Spock to break under the pressure. That look was all Spock needed to maintain his focus, he would not break in front of Brixton, he would not give him the satisfaction.

"Doctor, you've got to administer the Vasostimulator." Dr. Harken cautioned, his eyes glued furiously to his scanner.

"No, not yet! I want to record the length of time it takes for him to—,"

"Dr. Edison! If you don't, I'm afraid he's going to have an aneurism…I've never seen this sort of activity!" He argued further, but Dr. Edison wasn't so easily convinced.

"Of course you've never seen it! He's a damn Vulcan! What did you expect?"

"That may be Doctor, but do you really wanna take that chance? You just got him here! Be a damn shame to lose him so early in the game." Dr. Harken pressed on.

Dr. Edison had his mouth open mid sentence to fire back a retort, but Dr. Harken's words halted him in his tracks.

"You're right. Dr. Stevens? Administer the Vasostimulator, remember to double the dosage."

"Yes Doctor." An instant later, Spock was only half aware of another hypo being administered to him. Just the touch of the needle on his skin was almost enough to break his intense concentration, and send him spiraling into lung failure and cardiac arrest. For a few moments, Spock feared that it just might happen, but to his immediate relief, the counter drug had started to take effect. Already Spock could feel his veins flowing more readily with blood. Already he could feel his lungs start to function again without him incessantly pushing them to. The echoes in the room vanished, and he could hear again. Taking a sizeable breath, Spock allowed himself to exhale slowly, taking pleasure in the calming effect it provided him.

"Neural activity stabilizing Doctor." Dr. Harken informed him with a sigh of relief.

"Good good, let's see if we can't get another blood sample. I would like to compare the results of his sample taken before, and the one we collect after the subject has endured a period of stress." Dr. Edison instructed nonchalantly. Feeling weak and disheveled, the last thing Spock wanted was for Stevens to place his hands on his arm again in order to obtain the blood sample, but there was nothing he could do to prevent it.

Instead of the anger he had felt briefly before, this time it was curiosity, and for some reason, an intense feeling of dominance.

Being mentally drained from having to provide life support to his own body, Spock could not mentally shield himself from the emotions, nor could he stop his own from transcending back through the link. Emotions such as helplessness, confusion, and bitterness for his current situation—for he was confused as to how his life had led him to this point—soared out of him and into the human. He was helpless to do anything about what was happening to him, and bitter that it was being done by the very organization he had dedicated his life to.

Dr. Stevens looked momentarily startled at obviously feeling Spock's emotions. "So…Vulcans _do _feel." Stevens said quietly, although everyone in the room heard it. Intrigued by the statement, Dr. Edison looked from Stevens to Spock, before his eyes rested on the doctor's hands grasping the Vulcan's arm as he drew the blood. He gasped with recognition as he palmed his forehead dramatically.

"Ah yes! How could I forget that Vulcans are touch telepaths? We will definitely have to delve deeper into that in the future. I can already think of some interesting experiments I'd like to try…" Dr. Edison rambled on excitedly as he began making his exit from the room. Spock could not help the apprehension now gripping his chest. He wasn't looking forward to finding out just what kind of _experiments_ the doctor had in mind when it came to his touch telepathy. It was obvious to him now that in addition to being unethical, the man was also quite vindictive.

"I want those samples analyzed in the next two hours Dr. Harken. Dr. Stevens? Help the Warden here escort our…_prized subject_ back to his cell." He ordered before exiting through the door. Having finished obtaining his blood sample, Dr. Stevens yanked the needle back out and repeated the same process he had before with the previous sample. Meanwhile, Brixton had begun to unfasten Spock's restraints, making sure to be as rough as possible while doing it.

"Get up." He ordered harshly as he thrust the pale blue uniform shirt at him. With great difficulty, Spock was able to move into a sitting position, and from there into a standing position. And though his ramrod straight posture indicated that he was standing with ease, all Spock really wanted to do was sit back down at the sudden onslaught of lightheadedness he was experiencing. He could not do that though, he could not show weakness in front of them, especially in front of Brixton.

After putting his shirt back on, Spock was pushed towards the exit, and back through the room with all the medically scrubbed humans who gazed at him intensely…as if searching for some kind of reaction to the ordeal he had just come out of. Undoubtedly, they knew the nature of what went on in the so called _Limbo Room._ Well, today they were going to be disappointed because he was determined to walk out of here completely composed, and completely in control…at least, he would make them think that.

The walk back to the transporter room was a long one, partly due to the fact that Spock's legs felt heavier and heavier with each step. To be honest, he was ashamed that he was being affected this way. He should have been stronger, he should have been able to fight harder, and he definitely should not be this fatigued. If he were a full-blooded Vulcan, he would not be having this issue.

_If I were a full-blooded Vulcan, I would not be here, _ He thought disdainfully to himself. Self-pity. Yet another needless, illogical emotion to add to the list of emotions already assaulting him. Before walking up to the pad that would beam him down, Brixton made good on his promise of payback from Spock's earlier comment in the _Limbo Room. _As Jenkins and Hughes held him firmly in place, the Warden brought out his baton, turned up the setting, and jammed it harshly into his side just over his heart. The pain was excruciating, and he could not help the small whimper he elicited as the electricity pulsed throughout him.

He did not know how long the man held the infernal weapon there, his only thoughts were of pain, pain, and more pain.

"Told you you'd pay for that smart ass mouth." Brixton spat at him as he withdrew his baton. Jenkins and Hughes immediately let him go, and he couldn't help himself as he fell ungracefully to the floor, panting for air as his side screamed in agony.

"Get your ass on that pad." Hughes barked as he landed a kick in Spock's side. Groaning weakly, Spock managed to get himself back into a standing position. It took all he had not to stumble up to the transporter pad. As he dematerialized, he thought about how he was actually looking forward to getting back to his cell. At least there he could lay down, undisturbed and without pain. He could rest.

However, when he rematerialized back in his cell…all hopes of having a little peace and quiet diminished instantly. For there, waiting for him with a wide, malicious grin plastered on his face…was the Romulan…Lokar.

**A.N ***DIvI' ghargh: Federation worm**

**What did you guys think?! I'm dying to know! Sorry about the cliff hanger *grins evilly* **

**Oh, and before I forget, I realize that in some episodes...the Romulans are depicted as having the same, bowl cut haircut that Vulcans have. I've sort of changed that in this story. I just don't think that two cultures as different as the Romulans and Vulcans are going to sport the same hair...plus...I didn't realize this until after I wrote it...*hides in corner* please don't stone me! **


	9. Wretches and Kings

**WARNINGS: VIOLENCE, LANGUAGE, and that's pretty much it for this one. The graphic stuff doesn't come till the next time around we see Spock, and I'll be sure to warn ya'll, oh and this chapter is named after Linkin Park's song, Wretches and Kings, and a big thank you to my betas! Phangoul and Sakuraminamino! This would be horrible without them! **

Chapter Nine

Wretches and Kings

Spock stared into Lokar's coal black eyes, and was certain that the Romulan's intentions toward him were hostile. He could feel the violent emotions pouring off of him in waves across the room, it was that intense. It was obvious that the Romulan had been waiting here for him, though how he knew the location of his cell, the Vulcan would most likely never know.

"Someone looks as if they have just visited the_ Limbo Room, _or at least had a…_little_ meeting with the Warden. Either one of them is not good for you, but it is beneficial to me." Lokar said with a wide grin as he eyed the Vulcan up and down. Spock raised an eyebrow. This gave Spock the conclusion that he had known he would arrive back here, in his cell, weaker and fatigued, thus easier to overcome in a physical altercation.

It was actually quite logical, the Romulan's plan.

"I do not wish to engage in a fight you." Spock stated apathetically. The sound of laughter became audible just outside the cell, making it apparent that Lokar was not alone. No doubt the rest of his comrades lingered just outside the opening. If they all wished to fight him, he regretted that he would likely lose. Lokar regarded him truculently as he edged his way uncomfortably closer.

"Now that _is _a shame isn't it…because my wishes are exactly the opposite." He taunted just as a young female Romulan came sashaying in from outside, a buoyant glint in her strikingly dark eyes. Her ebony hair flowed down past her shoulders, several braids adorning it.

"So this is the Vulcan you have been telling me so much about, brother?" The female stated vibrantly as she regarded him shamelessly. "He is certainly _praevus_ for a _Thaesha_." She said sensually, alternating back and forth between Terran Standard and the Romulan language. Spock understood her clearly though from his basic knowledge of the dialect, and he inwardly bristled at her suggestive tone.

"I did not know you found Vulcans—what is the Terran word?—_attractive,_ T'Vara." Lokar chided in amusement, causing her to glare at him.

"Just because he is a disgusting, _hhihto_ Vulcan, does not mean I have to find him physically repulsive _dinam._" She fired back.

"Your time spent vocalizing is illogical. I suggest you carry out whatever task you have set forth on, or you leave." Spock cut in shrewdly, bringing the attention back to himself. It was not that he was in a hurry for them to attack him, but they were going to make the attempt one way or another, and he would rather they made it now while he could still stand. Every passing moment left him weaker, and his body shook and trembled from the ordeal he had just experienced.

Spock's request was granted half a second later as Lokar made a lunge at him, effectively pinning him up against the stone wall. Out of trained Vulcan reflex, Spock mustered what strength he could and forced the Romulan's hands off him. Lokar stumbled back, nearly tripping over his feet. His face darkened, clearly embarrassed at being thwarted by the Vulcan, and he growled loudly and lunged at him again with considerably more force.

Spock was prepared this time, and quickly brought his knee up and connected it with the Romulan's lower stomach, causing him to hiss in pain. Assuming that she was disgusted with her brother's inability to overcome him, T'Vara began cursing at Lokar in a Romulan dialect. Spock could only understand half of the words utilized.

Hearing the sounds of their leader's struggle, Lokar's lackeys forced their way into the cell, and upon taking one look at Lokar, who was doubled over on the floor clutching at his stomach, T'Alam cried out in fury and headed towards Spock, his clenched fist raised in the air.

Spock saw the fist coming and prepared to counter it, but was caught off guard as T'Vara's own—surprisingly strong—fist connected with his jaw, sending his head whipping around. If he hadn't already been in such a weakened state, Spock might have stood a chance against the gang. Despite the fact that they outnumbered him greatly; his superior Vulcan strength, as well as skill would have played to his advantage. Thanks to Dr. Edison and the Warden however, that strength was nonexistent now.

Spock attempted to regain his composure after the strong blow to his face, but the female would not allow it. Instead, she continued laying hit after hit to every part of his body, the others joining as well. Spock was vaguely aware that Lokar had rejoined the fray as his loud voice ordered the others that, "_the Vulcan was his to finish!"_

He tried again in vain to regain some form of control in the fight, but he could not do it, he was just too exhausted. _Perhaps they will end up killing me, at least then I would be rid of this place, _Spock thought contritely, immediately repulsed at letting such a thing cross his mind. Wishing for one's own death was illogical.

"Hey! Leave him alone!" An all-too-familiar voice shouted from outside the cell, making his heart sink. Spock knew who the voice belonged to. Dalton Corwin.

Instantly the Romulans ceased their attack, both vexed and curious as to who would _dare_ interrupt them. Spock took this chance to assess the physical damages done to his body. Aside from several contusions, a severe respiration rate, and probably a concussion…he seemed to be in acceptable health.

"Well, well, well…if it isn't the puny human lamb come to save the day. You are a little far from your flock, are you not?" Lokar taunted dangerously as he made to move toward Dalton who had just swallowed a sizable lump in his throat. Being momentarily forgotten on the floor, Spock sat himself up, gingerly favoring the right side of his ribcage as he did so. T'Vara glared at him, but made no move to stop him, she was more interested in her brother's interaction with Dalton. So was he.

"Look…I don't want any trouble. Why can't you just leave him alone? He hasn't done anything to you!" Dalton argued, attempting to appear as brave as possible in the face of the angry group of Romulans who greatly outnumbered him. Spock knew better though. Call it gained insight from living amongst humans for so long, but he knew that inside…the young man was terrified. The eyes gave him away.

Lokar let out a string of laughter, the others followed suit. "I beg to differ. The very nature of what he _is _offends me."

Surprisingly, Dalton's expression of fear became one of petulance; he had seen him exhibit this expression with the human, Jacques. "Isn't Xenophobia a bit…_out of place…_in a place like this?"

Narrowing his eyes, Lokar advanced forward and quickened his step until he was nose-to-nose with the young human, who tried to make himself stand as tall as possible, a look of defiance in his eyes. _Illogical, _Spock thought to himself. It made no sense for Dalton to risk his own wellbeing for his. It was apparent the Romulans outnumbered him immensely. Any attempt to intervene on Spock's account would only end in bloodshed. Spock was ninety-nine point three percent sure of it.

"And pray tell human…why are _you_ so quick to defend this…this…" Lokar swiveled around to glare at Spock as if he were an insect. "This _halfbreed." _

_So they do know my identity, perhaps that accounts for a percentage of their hostility._

"Because he hasn't done anything to you. It's not right." Dalton stated confidently. Lokar however, looked baffled as he made to pace in a circle.

"_Hasn't done anything_?" He questioned boisterously, throwing his arms up in the air to indicate the prison tunnels. Spock errantly wondered if the guards were spectating the scene, and if they were…why did they not put a stop to it? "Look around you, _boy. _The reason why we are here—the reason why _you're _here_—," _and here, Lokar back marched over to Spock, grabbed him unceremoniously by his hair, and jerked him off the floor. He felt his ribs protest, but made no visible expression of pain. "—Is because Federation trash like this put you here." Lokar spat as he leaned his face down to Spock's. "You see…we know who you are _Spoock." _He drew out icily before spinning his head back around to face Dalton. "And I can assure you _human, _he has _done_ plenty. Now…he will pay the price."

Lokar raised his fist as if to strike Spock, who only hoped the blow this time would knock him unconscious, at least then he could attempt some sort of healing trance. _Though if I were successful, I would have no one to bring me out of one._ A snicker from Dalton caused to Romulan's fist to pause just inches in front of Spock's face.

"I guess you didn't fight him earlier because he was too strong then huh? Had to wait for the guards to do your dirty work for you so you actually stood a chance." Dalton taunted, causing Spock to inwardly groan. The resemblance the human had right now to Jim was startling, and he actually felt a pang of sadness thinking about it. But if the human continued this path of defiance, he would most assuredly get himself killed, and it would be Spock's fault.

"How _dare _you—!" T'Vara began as Lokar abruptly let go of Spock to go after the young human. Apparently, Dalton's words had not been that far from the truth.

"Your quarrel is with me Lokar, not the boy." Spock attempted, and hastily tried to bring himself off the cold floor, but the Romulans ignored him as they rounded on their new target.

"**Attention night miners, shift will commence in approximately five minutes, proceed to tunnel E immediately." ** A loud, disembodied voice sounded from everywhere, effectively halting the Romulans in their steps. T'Alam made a sound of protest as he stomped his gregarious foot on the ground. Lokar shared an irritated look with his sister before narrowing his eyes at Dalton.

"Looks like it's your lucky day _human._ But don't think for one second we will forget what happened here. And as for _you—," _he spat bitterly and turned to look at Spock, "We're not anywhere _near _through with you."

Motioning for his comrades to follow, the Romulan marched past Dalton, purposefully bumping him harshly in the shoulder. T'Vara, who had placed herself very closely into Spock's personal space, smiled evilly at him, and traced her finger along his lips, satisfied with the green blood that was already drying there. A collection of thoughts such as _Satisfaction/Ilovetowatchyoubleed _soared the touch.

Repulsed by the offensive contact, Spock jerked his head away from her and glared, causing her to laugh as she finally took her finger off him, and exited towards the door. However, instead of following her brother and his gang, she went off on her own path, obviously not wishing to continue the confrontation alone.

Dalton stared after her a moment before running over to Spock to attempt to help the Vulcan on his feet. "I do not require your assistance." He stated as he made to brush the young man off, he really would rather not be touched any more than necessary.

"Like hell you don't, you look like someone's punching bag."

Spock raised an eyebrow.

"I bear no such resemblance."

Dalton laughed lightly at Spock's unintentional humor, but nevertheless, let the Vulcan climb to his feet on his own.

"We should probably get you to the showers…they'll be pretty barren right now with more than half the prison down in the mines—," Dalton began before Spock harshly interrupted him.

"Your attempt to interfere on my behalf was illogical. I must request that you not repeat the action again in the future." He stated with force, as seemed to be necessary in these instances. His eyes slightly narrowed at the adolescent, and Dalton's cheeks reddened fiercely before he glared up at Spock.

"I believe a _thank you _is the phrase you're looking for. If it weren't for me, you probably wouldn't even be standing right now." Dalton retorted bitterly.

"Perhaps you are correct in that assumption, however, I must point out that if it were not for the Romulans being called away, you most assuredly would not be standing either." Spock countered in a steadfast voice. Dalton regarded him thoughtfully before a smirked crossed his face.

"I guess it's a good thing I keep track of time around here." He said cheekily, making Spock raise another eyebrow.

"You knew they would be called away?" Spock could not help but be impressed at the man's impeccable timing.

"Yup. Besides, even if I didn't know, I still wouldn't have just stood by. I'm real sick and tired of those guys strutting around here, and pushing their weight off on everyone, and if it's not them and the fucking Klingons, it's the Cardassians…who are even worse." He trailed off darkly before continuing. "At least the Romulans and Klingons are upfront with their brutality. The Cardassians however, well they're just fucking sadistic." Dalton replied, his voice trailing off again at the mention of the Cardassians. Spock remembered seeing them in the mess hall earlier, and he had to admit, they had held a dangerous air about them.

"I see, despite the illogical brashness of your actions, I do wish to express my gratitude, though I must repeat that you do not attempt such an endeavor again."

Dalton laughed lightly and shook his head.

"You're welcome…and…I can't make any promises." The two stared at each other a few, lengthy seconds before Dalton shifted uncomfortably, his hand running through his hair. "Are you sure you don't wanna go with me to the showers? Clean some of those cuts up a bit? I'm not too knowledgeable on Vulcan biology, but I'm sure it's not good to leave cuts open like that. Especially in a place like this." He apprised.

Spock considered the young man's advice. The only activity he wanted to do right now was lay down, and attempt a light healing trance. He was beyond tired, and it was taking everything just to stay awake. He had not realized it until now, but he had not slept at all since he was taken into custody. That was over a week ago. Even though Vulcans could function without sleep for quite a long time, they still had their limits, and Spock was definitely feeling those limits. However, Dalton's logic was sound, he did need to clean his wounds to offset any infection which might incur.

"Your logic is sound Mr. Corwin. I will accompany you to the prison's sanitation facilities." Spock agreed impassively, causing Dalton to chuckle again. Spock raised an eyebrow in familiarity as he regarded the young man. Jim Kirk also found humor in a lot of things Spock said and did, even when ninety-five percent of the time Spock was unsure as to the cause of such hilarity.

Thankfully the walk to the sanitation room was uneventful, as there were not many prisoners left in the _Prison Pop_ to crowd the corridors. Mostly, all that was left was the elderly, females, and other random individuals including Dalton and himself. Spock remembered the Warden mentioning having to work to earn one's keep. Perhaps it would not be long before he would be joining Lokar and the rest of them down in the mines. _Speaking of mines…_

"Mr. Corwin, if I may, what exactly are the prisoners mining for on Doradus Prime?" Spock asked as they neared closer to the sanitation room.

"Dilithium mostly. The planet is loaded with it." Dalton answered simply. There were only a handful of planets in Federation space which contained Dilithium. The element itself occurred as a crystalline mineral which was used by Starships. Montgomery Scott would know far more about it than Spock, but he knew enough. The Dilithium crystals controlled the power of a Starship's warp drive system by regulating the matter/antimatter reaction in the ship's core, an environment which Spock knew all too well to be extremely radioactive. Spock had to wonder if Doradus provided the necessary equipment to the miners to protect against radiation.

"An extremely valuable mineral." Spock stated. Dalton sighed in agreement.

"It's what pays for this whole charade. Starfleet sells it to the entire Federation at the cheapest price around because there is practically no labor cost, plus…they get to use it in their own Starships at practically no cost to them, and in turn, Starfleet turns a blind eye to what's really going on here." He muttered in disdain. Spock pinched his eyebrows together in confusion.

"I am aware of the various planets which contain and sell Dilithium, Mr. Corwin. Doradus Prime is not one of them." He announced skeptically.

"I never said Doradus put its name on the stuff…that would draw too much attention to this place, and Dr. Edison would just _love _that." He spat sarcastically, a dark glint in his eyes. Spock remained silent as he pondered what the youth had divulged to him. By what he had witnessed so far at Doradus, Starfleet had turned a blind eye to a lot of things…and this man, this—_Dr. Edison—_seemed to be the root of it all going off Dalton's admission.

As they entered the slightly crowded sanitation room, Dalton turned and headed hastily towards the right, back corner of the room. For a few moments, most of the people in the room—who appeared to be harmless—looked at Spock in hesitation, as if he had come to attack them. Dalton did not fail to notice their fear, and he leaned in and whispered to Spock as they walked. "_They think you're a Romulan…I think." _

"I had gathered that." Spock replied tightly as he attempted to nod reassuringly to the others in the room. No one returned his gesture, but thankfully, they went back to their own activities.

Dalton walked up to a shower stall and motioned for Spock to make use of the one beside him. The stalls were roughly the size of a small closet, and were slightly transparent. They also contained two petite storage units. One contained the same soap which Brixton had made him use—the soap which made his skin sting. The other compartment, he assumed, was to deposit one's clothing in while they showered.

Over near the entrance of the room, Spock noted what could only be a laundry chute for the inmates to deposit their soiled uniforms into. He idly watched as one inmate—one of the rare female Andorians he had seen so far—walked up to it, deposited her clothing, and placed her tattooed barcode underneath a scanner. He recalled Brixton telling him that you had to pay to wash your uniforms. Apparently, this was how it was done.

Once the scanner accepted the Andorian's payment by emitting a green light, the alien then walked back to her shower stall, and adorned a new pair of prison garb, the number seven four two printed on the chest and back. As Spock had not acquired a second uniform yet, he knew he would have to make do with the one he currently owned, which was filthy with his blood from the beating he had just taken.

Spock did not like the idea of having to remove his clothing in public, but he had not expected anything different. It was not like he would be allotted special privileges here. He glanced at Dalton to see that the human had already divested himself of his own prison garb, and had started on the task of scrubbing himself clean with the soap. Wishing to be done as fast as possible, so that he could avoid the cold and return to his cell to sleep, Spock started removing his own clothing—glancing around at the other showering inmates as he did so to gauge if anyone was watching him. That was when he locked eyes with the naked, Romulan female T'Vara.

Spock had not noticed T'Vara before when he walked in, but there she was; a few stalls over, staring at him intensely…a predatory look in her dark, black eyes. While the slightly hazed barrier hid the most personal details of her body, the dark, ebony shade of her long flowing hair littered the pale, ashen complexion that was her skin. Just minutes ago he undergone an attack from this Romulan, yet she did not appear as if she would make a second attempt.

Giving him one last glare, T'Vara turned her body abruptly away from him to resume her shower. Spock was mildly appalled that Doradus did not provide gender specific sanitation rooms for their inmates. It was not that he had problems sharing a shower with a member of the opposite sex (although as a Vulcan, he would rather not share a shower with anyone). Spock was not a sexist, but he knew that, more than likely, the prison played residence to many who were.

Repeating her gesture, Spock turned his own body around and twisted the old fashioned knob to activate the shower. Just like the hose from earlier today which had assaulted his body, the shower was ice cold, and stung as it hit his skin. _It would be best to complete this as quickly as possible, _Spock thought with dismay. He knew that if he spent too long underneath water with temperatures such as this, he would likely catch hypothermia. Which—being Vulcan—was not that difficult to achieve.

Grabbing the soap out of the storage unit, Spock hastily scrubbed at the various cuts and welts that littered his body. The abhorrent, chemical scent ensnared his senses as he lathered the soap onto his skin, the injured areas hissing with burning pain at the contact.

In a desperate attempt to distract his tired mind as he hastened through his shower, Spock let his thoughts wander to the one person whom it now caused him pain to think about…Jim. He tried to imagine he was here with him, underneath the cold, shrill water. His own hot, human body helping to warm his despite the icy temperature. It shamed him—to think of his captain in such a way without his consent— but surprisingly, just the mere thought of him being so close brought a blanket of warmth over him, and with that, also a wave of despair. While he had his memories—which were perfect in their accuracy, they would never suffice for the real thing. It pained him deeply that Jim would never be more than a memory now. _Yet never forgotten._

As soon as the last wound had been scrubbed clean, Spock turned the knob, dried himself off underneath the mechanized dryer hanging next to the shower head—he was actually surprised that they had drying mechanisms at all_—_and dressed himself quickly. There were still green blood stains on his uniform, but as he did not have another pair, or a means to clean the garment, there was nothing he could do about it. Dalton noticed him inspecting his blood soiled clothes as he put his own pair back on.

"Whenever you start working in the mines, you'll be able to get more clothes for yourself and you can put your dirty ones in that laundry chute over there. The females and some of the elderly here work in the laundry and kitchen departments, so they manage all that jazz."

Spock ignored the reference to the terran musical genre known as _jazz_, which was no doubt another human colloquialism.

"Where do I make such a purchase?"

"Once a month the guards bring out a booth in the mess hall where you can buy those things." Dalton answered, before narrowing his eyes. "It's also a time when you can get extra stuff if you have the credits…" He let his voice trail off, Spock was instantly curious.

"Extra?" He probed further.

Dalton avoided his eyes at the question, obviously not wanting to elaborate on the subject. Nevertheless, he answered the query vaguely.

"…I'm sure you'll find out on your own sooner or later. It's probably not stuff a Vulcan would be interested in though…" He trailed off as he finished buttoning up the collar on his uniform shirt, and headed for the exit, Spock right behind him, hands clasped behind his back.

"What happens in the event that you are unable to work? How do you purchase sustenance and clothing?" He asked, his eyes wandering over the elderly inmates which littered the corridors of the _Prison Pop. _It certainly seemed like the majority of the male population at Doradus was currently working in the Dilithium Mine. Dalton's expression suddenly became grim.

"If you don't got the credits…you don't eat."

Spock had concluded as much, given his interaction with the Orion prisoner just outside the mess hall earlier. Warden Brixton himself had also explained as much to him when he was being given instructions that morning, but he had not taken the human seriously at the time. He had assumed the human had just been utilizing what Nyota sometimes coined as, _scare tactics_. Spock could not fathom a Federation penal colony allowing their inmates to literally starve to death. Not only was it illegal, but completely immoral. Yet, here was Dalton, confirming that such things _did_ happen, and quite frequently. Had he not seen as much with his own eyes thus far?

"Am I expected to believe that Doradus, a Federation penal colony, would let its' prisoners starve to death?" Spock inquired as ambivalently as possible, though he could not hide the slight disgust that lingered in his tone. He knew the answer he would receive, yet he could not help but ask the query anyway. Dalton peered at him pointedly, like he had asked a stupid question.

"For someone who's been to the _Limbo Room_ already…are you really gonna ask me about the moral integrity of this place?"

Spock remained silent and averted his gaze to the floor. The human had a made a sound point.

"But most of them are still able to get a bite to eat where they can. I share my food with people all the time." He added optimistically. Spock raised his eyebrows, momentarily taken a back at the human's compassion. Once again he wondered what this young man could have done to garner a life sentence here.

"When I went to the mess hall earlier this afternoon, I do not recall having to use any credits_._" Spock clarified.

"That's 'cuz you're new…as soon as they appoint you a place in the mines, you won't get any more handouts, trust me."

"I see, and why are you not present in the mines at this time? I would assume that you are able bodied, yet you are here with the remainder of the population which mainly consists of either females—or the elderly." Spock asked placidly as the two walked.

"Oh, I do work in the mines…but on Tuesdays and Thursdays they do a double shift, which takes place at night—I'm not sure why they do doubles, probably to keep the inmates good and tired, and then Friday is kinda an _off _day for the entire prison—thank God that's tomorrow by the way." He added in relief before continuing, "the humans though—we don't have to work the doubles, probably 'cuz there isn't that much of us here in the first place, and let's face it…as a race…humans aren't as hardy as the majority of beings here. You'll probably have to do it though. Being Vulcan and all…" Dalton explained remorsefully.

"**Lock down to commence in ten minutes, all prisoners return to their cells for Roll Call." **The automated, disembodied voice sounded again over a loud speaker. Almost immediately, all social interactions in the _Prison Pop_ ceased as prisoners began making their way robotically to their cells. Some however stayed seated on the floor, not giving any indication of moving anytime soon. One of them—he noted—was the Orion he'd interacted with earlier today. Apparently, these were the individuals who were without a cell, and were forced to sleep out in the _Prison Pop_, an unfortunate fate.

"I'm this way." Dalton said, bringing Spock's attention back to him as he indicated to his right with his hand. "Do you remember how to get back?" He asked, and Spock simply stared at him, making the adolescent blush with chagrin. "Sorry. Of course you do. Vulcan. Super memory. Got it." He corrected himself, embarrassed.

"There is no need to apologize; you simply wished to ensure I arrived at the right destination. Your concern is appreciated." Spock said sincerely, not wanting to offend the young man who had proved so helpful to him since he had arrived.

"Okay. Well…goodnight then." Dalton smiled at him before turning and disappearing around a corner. The Vulcan stared after him for a few seconds before heading back to his cell.

Once back, he submitted to the optical scan which would confirm his identity, and watched as the force-field barrier erupted, effectively locking him inside. Spock felt a small sense of comfort at having a barrier to separate him from the outside. It meant no one could come in and attack him. He would be safe for just a small while.

Almost immediately he laid himself down on his cot, and took a few deep breaths to prepare to attempt a light healing trance. He knew he could not go very far into one for the sole reason that he had no one to assist him once it was time to come out of it. He would have to settle for the lighter trance, and heal his injuries slowly that way. It was not preferred, but it would have to do.

((oOo))

Seated on the couch in his quarters, Warden Brixton was just about to down another shot of his prized Romulan Ale when his communicator beeped. Sighing heavily, Brixton slammed his glass down, spilling some of the contents in the process, and thrust open his communicator with an exaggerated air of impatience.

"What is it!" He snapped, expecting one of his guards to be bothering him with some miniscule thing. A guy just couldn't relax around here.

"Mr. Brixton, pay heed to who you're speaking to in that manner." The voice chastised on the other end. _Shit._ He knew that voice.

"Dr. Edison? My apologies. I thought you were one of my subordinates. Is there something I can help you with?" He asked in false politeness, not really wanting to help with anything at all.

"I would like to see you in my office immediately." Dr. Edison ordered firmly. _Goddamn it to hell._

"Uh, right now Doctor?" Brixton questioned as he glanced at his chronometer to confirm the late hour. "Can't it wait until the morn—,"

"_No!_ It can't! I want you here in five minutes." The voice on the other end bellowed before cutting the connection. Swearing, Brixton threw his communicator onto the desk, and downed his shot. He would need it. He checked himself in the mirror to make sure he was half-way decent, and strode out into the hallway, fuming in the process.

_The nerve of that old bastard! _Brixton thought vehemently as he ascended in the turbolift. Brixton had been working with Dr. Edison for nearly eight years now. Eight long years, and the man still treated him like a child. _I'm the Warden of the most top secret prison in the Federation dammit! I'm not a child! _

Before Edison had arrived, there were different doctors here, doctors who specialized more in psychology and rehabilitation medicine. The place was kept confidential for the sole basis that Doradus mainly housed alien prisoners outside of the Federation—meaning that the facility was at high risk for breakout attempts by other empires such as the Klingons, or the Romulans, who might see fit to get their citizens back. To Starfleet—it seemed like a good opportunity to study their enemies, so that they knew best how to defend against them, and now…how to fight them.

However, when Edison came into the picture, it quickly turned from your traditional—_average Joe penal colony—_into a regular eugenics lab, Dr. Edison at the helm.

It wasn't that Brixton had a problem with genetic experimentation. It's not like he gave a shit about the trash that came through this prison. No, it had more to do with Dr. Edison always trying to take control, always wanting to run the show. This was _his _prison…not Edison's.

Arriving outside of his office, Brixton rang the chime once, his foot tapped impatiently.

"Come in." Edison's clipped tone sounded from the other side. Once inside, Brixton sat himself down heavily in the chair across from Edison's desk, not even bothering to wait for an invitation.

"Warden Brixton." The man acknowledged carelessly as he read notes on his PADD, which lay in front of him. Brixton just stared at him, waiting for him to come to a point. He had a pint of Romulan Ale waiting for him right now, and this asshole was keeping him from it.

"I trust you know why I've requested your presence?"

_I trust you realize I want to punch your snarky face? _Went unspoken.

"Actually, I haven't the foggiest clue." He fired back instead, causing the older man to glare at him.

"Well let's just take a look at this shall we?" He stated shortly as he brought up a surveillance video on his PADD to show to Brixton. On the screen, Brixton noticed the cells of the _Prison Pop_, and inside one of them was Spock, the half-breed, and several Romulans who were clearly attacking the Vulcan mercilessly. Brixton couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips.

It wasn't a question now, for out of all the inmates in Doradus…he hated that fucking Vulcan the most. It boggled his mind that Starfleet let that abomination rise so far in the ranks. His own father had worked for a Vulcan for years at the Embassy when he was a child, and that back-breaking Vulcan made sure that Brixton's father was never home, which meant he was never there. Work was always the most important thing, the family came second. And on the rare chance that he _was_ there, he was so exhausted and stressed out that he was a raging bastard the entire time. _No! I don't have time to watch your game! Can't you see I've got grown up things to do! _His father would scream at him when he'd asked him to come watch him play his baseball game one summer. He never asked again.

Brixton ended up on the security track at the Academy, instead of what he'd originally wanted to do—which was be on the command track—because of fucking over-achievers like Spock that seemed to outshine him in everything. Of course, now it seemed like that were just handing out Starships left and right like fucking candy on Halloween. Just look at the still wet-behind-the-ears James T. Kirk! The man was barely out of the Academy, and they just thrust the newest ship in the fleet at him like it was damn toy!

"Can you explain this to me?" Dr. Edison asked thinly.

"I see a Vulcan getting the shit beat out of him by a bunch of Romulans. What is there to explain?" Brixton retorted sarcastically. Though he knew why the doctor was upset, the pleasure he got out of winding the man up was just too much to resist.

"I thought I made it abundantly clear that I wanted that Vulcan kept in the isolation cells? In fact, I specifically told you that I didn't want him integrated with the other prisoners because of _this—,_" Edison indicated the footage on the screen, "right here! What if he had been killed? Severely injured?!" The doctor boomed, but Brixton did not back down.

"With all due respect Dr. Edison, I'm the Warden here, not you. You may be the head Doctor here, but this is _my_ prison. I'll decide where to place the prisoners." Brixton stated icily. Edison narrowed his eyes and huffed in exasperation.

"Let me remind you _Warden, _of all the trouble everyone's gone through to get that Vulcan here, and what he means to this project! If he gets killed in some—some alien _brawl—_down there, it's going to be both our heads! You will remove him to Isolation first thing tomorrow morning." Edison ordered, leaving no room for discussion, but Brixton wasn't having it. He firmly shook his head.

"I can't do that Doctor."

Edison gasped in irritated shock.

"I dare say why not?!"

"Aside from the fact that that uptight Vulcan sonuvabitch could use a little corporeal punishment down there…if you put him in isolation, you run the chance of him completely losing his marbles. Obviously you didn't pay attention in your Xenobiology courses. Vulcans don't do well in complete isolation; they go crazy way faster than most other races." Brixton informed him, trying to sound as scientific as possible. Edison laughed.

"I fail to see how this is a concern of yours?"

"It's a _concern _of mine, _Doctor_, because of your research, and what you're trying to accomplish here. It will be much more successful with a sane, cooperative Vulcan, than a crazed, psychotic one." Brixton countered confidently. Edison suddenly looked thoughtful, as if he was considering the logic in Brixton's words. The Warden continued.

"Plus…as I and my guards are the ones handling these animals, I would like them to be cooperative, especially when the animal in question is three times as strong as me." He added as a side note. He absolutely loathed admitting such a thing, but it didn't make it any less true.

"As logical as that explanation is Warden, I can almost assure you that the procedures I have planned for the Vulcan subject will more than likely—," Dr. Edison began.

"—Send him to the loony farm. I know." Brixton finished for him. Doctor Edison was definitely not known for his bed-side manner when it came to his…_patients. _The details of his experiments were to say the least, quite gruesome in some cases. Still, Edison looked unconvinced. Brixton sighed.

"Look—he's not going to be killed down there. There's guards out on every wall with specific orders to keep an eye on the half-breed in the event things do…get a little out of hand." Brixton assured the doctor. Edison regarded him with narrowed eyes for a few moments before conceding with a heavy sigh.

"Fine. You win Warden, but if this ends sour…you can be the one who answers to the Admiral."

**A.N. Romulan word meanings:**

** Preavus: handsome**

** Thaesha: Vulcan**

** Hhihto: disgraced**

** Dinam: brother**

**I know this chapter was shorter than they usually are, but it had to happen this way. The next part just doesn't really fit with this segment. Thank ya'll for reading! Tell me what you think?! You know your reviews are the food that feeds my soul. **


	10. Half a World Away

**A.N. Thank you to my lovely betas! I would not be able to do this without your help. Also...to the reviewer (sorry I can't respond to you personally since you don't have an account here) who said this was one of their favorite star trek fics? I am so honored to hear that! And I hope it keeps on impressing you! Your review made my day! **

**There are no major warnings in this, and I don't own star trek...but be sure to read the notes at the end of the chapter regarding ch 11! **

Chapter Ten:

Half a World Away

After far too long a day, Kirk and Bones found themselves at Starfleet's medbay in the late hours of the night.

"You sure we'll find this guy here Bones?" Kirk questioned, unable to keep the doubt out of his voice. It's not that he didn't trust his friend's judgment, he'd just been let down too many times this past week to really think they'd catch a break. Bones sighed in irritation. He did that a lot lately.

"Yes Jim, I'm sure. In case you don't know, I happen to be a _doctor _here, and I'm pretty sure I can read the names on the schedules. Dr. Hangerton will be here." He assured him with a scowl.

"Hey, you can't blame me for being a little anxious here. The last guy we tried to question ended up dead, remember?" Kirk threw in bitterly.

"You don't have to remind me." Bones replied scathingly before adding as an afterthought, "I thought Sarek was coming along?"

"Er…he was…but, I think that heart problem he's got has taken a lot out of him. Said he needed to meditate or something." Kirk revealed quietly, though he was skeptical of that reason. While Sarek's heart condition might very well be the cause of the Vulcan's sudden onset of fatigue—thus his reasoning for not joining their outing, he couldn't help but wonder if another reason might be the cause…

_Sometimes, when a Vulcan child is in distress, emotional or physical, the parent is able to receive these emotions through the link. _Sarek's words from earlier that day—when the Vulcan had revealed to him the nature of familial bonds and what they were capable of—came pouring back to him, and it did nothing for his mood. Nothing at all.

"Yeah, and I'm sure that that _Vulcan family voodoo _stuff has nothing to do with it." Bones stated sarcastically while at the same time, threw up a pair of air quotes for emphasis_._ He had told Bones about what had happened to Sarek back in his apartment earlier; how Vulcans could apparently _feel_ the pain and hurt of their immediate family members through some kind of telepathic link. The thought had deeply unsettled Kirk, and he had no doubts that Bones was also disturbed at the prospect that somewhere…Spock was in pain. It pained Kirk to even think about it, so he tried not to. Instead, he had been focusing all damn day on this Dr. Kel Hangerton—and what he had to do with Spock's set up.

"Well. You'll never get Spock's dad to admit that, and even so, I think we'll do better on our own on this one." Kirk said confidently as the two strode into the medbay's main lobby. It was scarce this time of night, but there were still random stragglers here and there, going about their nightly duties.

"With your brutal tactics? I'm sure we will." McCoy replied, one eyebrow raised.

Being that it _was_ the graveyard shift, Bones had assured him that this Kel Hangerton guy would be here, and already as they edged further down the whitewashed hallway, Kirk had his eyes peeled for anyone who looked even remotely suspicious.

"I know one thing though Jim, if Ambassador Sarek _had_ come along with us, at least he could've done that mind meld thing-a-majig, you know…incase this bastard doesn't wanna give us anything." Bones supplied, and Kirk couldn't help but agree with him. He knew though, that the Ambassador would never consent to such a thing. Spock himself had told him once that to forcibly enter someone's mind was one of the greatest offenses a Vulcan could commit. If that were true, he could hardly imagine a goody-two-shoes like the Ambassador doing such a thing, even if it would save his son.

_Although I __**have**__ been wrong before about Vulcan behavior…_

Walking up to the main desk, Bones grabbed a PADD and started skimming through it, ignoring the look of surprise the night shift nurse seated behind the desk was giving him. She was obviously surprised to see him here at such an hour. Bones did a fine job of ignoring her.

"Okay, according to this, Hangerton should be making rounds right about now." He stated as he began peering off in every direction in case the man was nearby, Kirk followed suit. The nurse—he assumed from hearing the name Hangerton—decided to cut in.

"Dr. Hangerton? He just told me not too long ago that he was going to take a small break in his office. He's probably still there, Dr. McCoy." She offered helpfully. Bones—who finally gave her his attention—smiled earnestly at her, causing her to blush. _Obviously she has thing for him, _Kirk pointed out internally.

"Why thank you sweetheart. At least I know someone's doing their job 'round here." Bones jerked his head at Kirk as an indication for the captain to follow him, and they made their way to where Hangerton's office would be.

Unsurprisingly, Hangerton's door was shut, and most likely locked. However, both Kirk and Bones could hear a muffled voice inside, most likely Hangerton speaking to someone on a Communicator, or perhaps a computer terminal.

"I don't think we should announce ourselves. For one thing, it would be very suspicious to get visitors this late, and I don't want to risk him making a run for it." Kirk advised in a whisper as he turned Bones away from the door.

"So what are we s'posed to do? Sit out here all night? You think that won't look suspicious?" Bones whispered back heatedly.

"That nurse said he was taking a short break. A _short _break. He can't be in there that much longer." Kirk replied as if it were obvious.

"Okay fine, let's say we wait, then what do you suggest we do when he comes out? Jump him?" the doctor fired back quietly, his eyebrow raised severely. Kirk sighed, ready with his retort when the voice within the room suddenly stopped. The two had only a moment to look at each other when the door slid open and out walked a man in his late forties, sporting a wild assortment of graying hair, and way too much cologne. _Yeah he looks like a sneaky bastard, _Kirk thought in disdain.

Momentarily startled at finding the two officers hovering suspiciously outside his office, all Hangerton could do was stare dumbly at them before a look of recognition slid over his face, and after that…a look that clearly said, "_oh shit." _They had obviously been recognized.

Without any delay, Hangerton desperately tried to push past them, but Kirk and Bones were too fast for him. Bumping Hangerton's chest with his own, Kirk firmly took the man by the shoulders, and attempted to steer him back into the office. Bones was right behind him, ready to assist if need be.

"I don't think so _Doctor_, I think it's high time we had a little chat." Kirk sneered as he forced the older man back into the room and into the chair in front of his desk. Bones peered behind them to make sure no one had seen the ambush before sliding the door closed and locking it. Hangerton glanced between the two anxiously as he gripped the arms of the chair tightly.

"Wh—what is the meaning of this?" He stuttered, feigning ignorance.

"Don't bullshit me doctor, you know exactly why we're here. I wanna know who put you up to botching Spock's medical exam. I wanna know the details of what you really found, and why you didn't consult a Vulcan Healer on this?" Kirk probed darkly, boring his eyes into the other man who started to look confused.

"Spock's medical exam? Captain, surely you can't expect me to remember every single patient's—," the man started, but Kirk slammed his fist down onto the desk.

"DON'T—give me that shit doctor, I know you remember every single little detail, and I don't intend to leave here until you tell me." Kirk threatened furiously, his patience wearing thin. Hangerton looked at him defiantly.

"I don't have to tell you anything Captain Kirk, for everything you need to know is already recorded in his file, which no doubt Dr. McCoy here has already looked into." He stated icily, glaring at Bones. "And I'll have you know…this is a serious violation of Starfleet regulations, and unless you want to be char—," the doctor began again, but was abruptly cut off as Kirk grabbed the man by the collar with both hands, yanked him up out of the chair, and backed him up against the window on the far side of the wall.

"Jim—," Bones started warily, a tense look in his eyes, but Kirk ignored him.

"You think I give a shit about regulations at this point? Now. You _answer _my question, or the last thing you'll have to worry about is Starfleet regulations. Why didn't you _consult_ with a Vulcan Healer?" Kirk asked again through gritted teeth. Hangerton regarded him fearfully, obviously intimidated by the murderous glint in the Captain's eyes.

"Look. If I t—t—tell you…they'll kill me!" He pleaded frightfully, his mood dramatically shifting from the pompous ass moments ago. Kirk couldn't help but feel immense relief underneath his fury. Finally they were getting somewhere.

"Who? Who will kill you, Dr. Hangerton?" Bones asked as he too joined the interrogation, but the man was shaking his head.

"You don't understand! If they even know that you're here, asking these questions, I could already be a dead man!" Kirk's grip on Hangerton's collar tightened considerably.

"Let me make this clear, if you don't give me something, you _will_ be a dead man." Kirk promised thinly. Whether he was capable of actually killing the doctor was questionable, but Hangerton didn't have to know that. It was a bluff yes, but Kirk was good at bluffing.

The older man considered him before sighing dramatically. "Look. The reason why I didn't contact the Vul—," he had begun to answer before a look of immense pain flooded his face. Kirk—being taken by surprise—immediately let go of him, and the doctor went crashing to the floor, grasping at his chest in pain. Kirk had no idea what was going on, but Bones apparently did.

"He's going into cardiac arrest!" His friend shouted as he pushed Kirk out of the way, and kneeled down beside the gasping man who had tears running down his cheeks. Fumbling for his communicator, Bones flipped it open, brought it to his mouth, and all but screamed into it.

"I need a trauma unit in Dr. Hangerton's office, room three twenty six, STAT!" He ordered frantically to who, Kirk had no idea. He then motioned to a bookshelf on the other side of Hangerton's desk.

"Grab that bag Jim! It'll be his med kit!" He yelled as he whipped his tricorder out, and began scanning the now erratic, convulsing man on the floor. Feeling his adrenaline starting to kick in, Kirk bounded over to the bookshelf, grabbed the bag, and thrust it down beside Bones. When he looked back at Hangerton, he was horrified to see that the man had passed out…or worse.

"Don't let him die Bones!" Kirk pleaded desperately. Hangerton couldn't die now, not when they were so close to actually getting some answers. Bones didn't even bother to reply as he ripped open the bag and ruffled through the contents. Moments later he pulled out a hypospray, and hastily injected the man in the neck.

"What's that your giving him?!" Kirk asked from the sidelines, his heart beating frantically in his chest.

"Epinephrine. It'll bring the heart rate back up until my DAMN TRAUMA TEAM GETS HERE!" Bones shouted behind him to no one in particular. As his face was turned, the drug started to have the desired effect, for Dr. Hangerton's eyes shot open, and bored straight into Kirk's own. The expression in them one of fear and…if possible…regret. Desperately, the man shot his hand out and gripped Kirk's shirt, attempting to bring himself closer. As he did so, Bones' trauma unit had arrived, and were bustling over to them.

"_Ki…Kirk…" _Dr. Hangerton managed weakly. Kirk strained his ears to listen over the bustle in the room. "_Tell him…tell him…" _Hangerton's voice began to trail off. That wasn't good.

"Tell who what?!" Kirk exclaimed as he gripped the dying man's hands into his own, willing him the strength to speak. The trauma unit, along with Bones, were trying to push Kirk out of the way so they could lift the man onto the hover stretcher, but Hangerton clung to Kirk fiercely, not wanting to let go.

"_Tell Spock…I'm sorry." _He whispered, giving away his last breath as he did. Kirk felt the man go dead weight in his arms as he stared into cold, lifeless eyes.

"Jim move! There might still be a chance to resuscitate him! Nurse…give me twenty cc's of Leporazine!" Bones yelled. The male nurse across from Kirk reacted instantly and handed Bones another hypospray. Immediately, Bones stabbed it in the doctor's neck. Everyone waited on bated breath as Bones scanned him with the tricorder to see if the hypo had been successful, his eyes full of hopeful determination. It was then that Kirk realized just how good of a doctor Bones really was. How important life was to him. It didn't matter to him who his patients were, or what they had done, because he would still do everything in his power to save their life. It was in his blood. If there was ever a time for that life saving ability to come handy…it was now.

As the seconds ticked by, the once hopeful expression on his friend's face turned into one of failure. "_Dammit!" _He exclaimed as he slammed his hands on his knees and rose up from the ground in a thrustful motion. Kirk wished he had the same respect for all life like his friend did. While Bones was obviously feeling remorseful over the man's death, Kirk suddenly became enraged.

Gripping the man's collar again, Kirk hauled his corpse off the floor and began shaking him. "HOW? HOW CAN I TELL HIM SORRY? Because of YOU his life is _DESTROYED_ you hear me_!?" _He yelled manically, causing the other people in the room to stare.

"Jim…"

"And you want _forgiveness!?" _Kirk continued, ignoring Bones. He stared into the lifeless eyes of Dr. Hangerton a few seconds longer, foolishly wishing he'd magically come back to life so that he could tell Kirk where to find his best friend, the man he'd just realized he was fucking in love with. So he could tell him who the people were that were responsible for this. But the man was dead. Fucking dead.

Knowing that he had failed—once again—Kirk dropped the man back to the floor, and let the medical staff in the room attend to him. He shared a glance with Bones before walking over to the window to gaze out into nothing. It wasn't long before he felt Bones' gentle hand grab his shoulder.

"Jim. It doesn't end here. At least now we know for sure that Spock was framed, and that there's more than one person behind it all." Bones stated lightly, however, it only served to further enrage the captain. Abruptly Kirk turned around to regard Bones with a certain coldness.

"I never doubted his innocence, Bones." He retorted darkly as he shoved past the doctor, and out into the hallway. His thoughts were a hot mess right now. Bones unsurprisingly, was quickly nipping at his heels.

"Now just wait a damn minute Jim! That's not what I meant!"

Kirk whipped around to face him, his eyes blazing.

"Oh really? Because that's how I took it. Spock needs both his friends on his side right now."

"Don't be so dramatic Jim! I'm only sayin' that had I…had I _saved _this guy's life…he would've been able to testify that Spock had been set up, he could've redacted his deposition as it pertains to the exam he performed. We would've had one more voice to back us up. I'd say Spock _needs _that too, wouldn't you?" Bones snapped angrily, making Kirk suddenly feel like shit as he processed his friend's words. Of course that's what his friend had meant, it had just sounded like something else.

"I'm sorry Bones. I'm just _so _pissed off right now and I'm taking it out on you. Finally we actually get our hands on something worth a shit, and it slips away." Kirk admitted regretfully as he ran his hands through his hair. Bones was about to reply when the hovering stretcher carrying the deceased Dr. Hangerton began to float past them, grabbing the doctor's attention.

"Nurse, I want an autopsy on this man as soon as possible, and I want the name of the doctor performing it before the procedure is carried out." He ordered in a no-nonsense tone.

"Yes Dr. McCoy." The male nurse who had handed him the hypo replied with a quick nod. Kirk glanced at Bones questioningly, waiting for an explanation.

"I find it strange that first the bartender we wanted to talk to mysteriously dies of a heart attack…and now Dr. Hangerton." Bones divulged suspiciously, and Kirk nodded in agreement.

"You're right. The first time could've been a coincidence, but the second? Something tells me that both of them were deliberately done." Kirk supplied as he pursed his eyebrows together in thought.

"You're damn right it was deliberate. Jim, that drug I administered to resuscitate him? The Leporazine? That's one of the strongest resuscitatives on the market! Hell, some physicians won't even _touch_ the shit because it's so damn powerful!"

Kirk narrowed his eyes in confusion.

"What are you saying Bones?" Kirk asked, dreading to hear the answer.

"I'm saying the man had a heart attack Jim. He wasn't fatally wounded and bleeding out onto the floor. I _should_ have been able to jumpstart his heart, even if only for a few more minutes."

"Yeah, with those few more minutes, I could have gotten a name…a place maybe." Kirk agreed bitterly. "But what I don't understand is that Dr. Hangerton was obviously on their side, why kill him?" Kirk continued, stating his internal dilemma.

"Well…he _was_ about to spill the beans—," Bones clarified.

"But they didn't know that, at least…they wouldn't have known it 'till afterwards."

"Maybe the office was bugged."

"And if it was? That still doesn't explain how, half-way through us interrogating him, he suddenly has a heart attack." Kirk said. None of this was making sense, and it was pissing him off.

"It's almost as if someone…" Bones started.

"Radioed it in." Kirk finished in a whisper before continuing. "Like Hangerton himself was already hardwired to die." The mere aspect of such a thing was sickly familiar to Kirk, but it was Bones who voiced what he was thinking.

"Whereas with Spock…they hardwired him to kill."

((oOo))

"Why is it, that whenever there's trouble, _you_ are connected to it, Captain Kirk." Admiral Komack stated sourly from across his desk, eyeing the two men in front of him with a tired expression.

Kirk, who had been standing awkwardly with his hands behind his back, glanced uneasily at Bones.

"I'm unsure what you're referring to Admiral, sir." He answered innocently, which only seemed to anger the current Head of Starfleet that much more.

"Dammit Kirk! You know exactly what I'm referring to! This—this business with Spock? Your incessant need to second-guess what Starfleet has already decided, and carry on with your own, _private _little sideshow of an investigation has got to end!" Komack exclaimed irritably as he brought his fist down on the table with loud clang. Kirk remained silent, afraid to speak, lest he give in to his emotions and say something he regretted.

"Now, I've got not one—but _two—_deaths that you're connected with!"

Instantly Kirk's eyes widened in disbelief at what the Admiral was insinuating, but it was Bones who beat him to the punch.

"With all due respect Admiral Komack, Jim and I had absolutely nothing to do with those deaths. Both those men died of cardiovascular failure, it's there in the damn autopsy!" He finished with a shout. Komack narrowed his eyes at him.

"You'll watch your language Dr. McCoy, I happen to be your superior." Komack spat, and Kirk could tell Bones was resisting the urge to roll his eyes. The doctor was never known show restraint when something pissed him off bad enough. "And I'm not saying you two murdered anyone here. For one thing, there isn't any evidence pointing to that fact. As you've already stated Dr. McCoy, the two men died of heart attacks, which was confirmed by their autopsies."

"Well, I'm sure it wouldn't take them long to rummage up some fabricated evidence to show that we did." Kirk muttered aloud before he could stop himself. Komack's eyes shot over to him, a hard glare in them.

"That is completely inappropriate Captain Kirk, and I hope to God that you're not out there gallivanting that around. You realize the image that kind of talk paints? With everything that happened with Marcus, the last thing Starfleet needs is its' most famous captain out there slandering it." Komack fired back, disappointment laced in his voice.

"I'm not out there _slandering_ Starfleet sir. I'm just trying to find some answers here! Surely you can't believe Spock did what you guys said he did? If you'd just a take second to look at—," Kirk began to plead before he was rudely interrupted.

"I will tell you exactly what I told Ambassador Sarek. While Spock was a fine Starfleet Officer, I cannot vouch for what he could, and could not be capable of doing. I did not know him. That is why we have Hearings captain. Spock had his day in Court, he was found guilty. And that is the end of it."

Kirk found himself wondering if Komack worded it exactly like that when Sarek had come to him for answers. Something about the intimidating Vulcan told him he probably didn't phrase it quite so crudely.

"His day in Court? You—you call that—that _trial _his day in court? He didn't even have a lawyer!" Kirk boomed.

"I will not have this discussion with you Captain Kirk, I did not call you here to discuss the legality of Spock's trial, I called you here to discuss your most recent behavior." Komack declared icily.

"But that can't be the end of it sir! You might not have known Spock personally, but I did! I can and do vouch for him! He wouldn't have murdered someone! At least allow one of his own people to examine him!" Kirk tried again, silently willing the Admiral to see reason. That hope fell as the admiral shook his head in anger.

"This coming from the same man who lied on an official report about events that took place on the Planet Nibiru?" Komack questioned with a raised eyebrow. Kirk glanced down at the floor, his heart sinking at what the admiral was about to imply. Komack's eyes gave a strange glint of satisfaction at his reaction, he knew he had Kirk cornered now. "—Events that ultimately led to the violation of Starfleet's most heavily enforced rule regarding the Prime Directive? Which—correct me if I'm wrong Captain Kirk—solely took place in your attempt to rescue Mr. Spock?" _And here it was._

"I was saving a man's life admiral! I couldn't just let Spock die in that volcano!" He replied instantly, his head shooting up to glare at the man in defiance. How many times was he going to have to explain this?

"Nevertheless captain, while your intentions might have been noble, you still showed your willingness to break the rules in the service of friends. A trait I've overlooked due to the fact that you _are_ one of the most admired captains in the fleet." He explained, and while Kirk should be honored that the Head of Starfleet just referred to him as such_, _he couldn't help but feel angry and bitter towards the admiral.

"That has nothing to do with—," He started.

"It has _everything _to do with it!" Komack savagely cut him off, causing Bones to wince under the authority in the admiral's deafening voice. "As of right now, this personal investigation stops." He added sternly, and looked at Kirk and Bones pointedly. Kirk remained silent. He knew no matter what he said, Komack wasn't going to listen to him anyway, so what was the point in arguing further.

"Of course, I know you won't listen to me despite the fact that I severely outrank you, and if this happened a year ago, I'd probably strip you of your rank right now for the bullshit I've had to put up with. But…as it were, these are pivotal times, and you're much too important to Starfleet for me to demote you." He admitted in an almost regretful tone, but by his expression, Kirk had an uneasy feeling that he was about to lay some bad news on them, and it was something he wasn't going to like.

"Which is why I've ordered the Enterprise on a rush for repairs, after which, I'm sending you and your crew on the five-year mission ahead of schedule. Congratulations Captain Kirk, I know what that means to you." Komack said, satisfaction dripping in his cadence.

Kirk and Bones gaped at the admiral with open mouths.

((oOo))

"I can't fucking believe this—,"

"Jim, wait a sec." Bones called after him as they both stomped out of Starfleet Headquarters, but Kirk was way too ingrained in his own anger to bother paying any attention to him.

"—Can't fucking _believe! _Five year mission? And they think I'm actually going to go? Well _FUCK _that!" He bellowed, causing people who to halt mid-stride to gape at the pair. Starfleet was fucking crazy if they thought he was actually going to continue being the Captain of the Enterprise, and leave Spock hanging for five years. They'd obviously lost their goddamn minds.

"Jim! Wait!" Bones yelled in frustration as he grabbed a hold of Kirk's shoulder to spin him around. Kirk abruptly shoved his hand off, and glared at his best friend. "You need to think about this." He continued, ignoring the way Kirk was staring at him.

"Think about what Bones? Think about abandoning my best friend—who I fucking love in case you've forgotten—to a life in fucking prison so I can go out gallivanting around in space for five years? Are you fucking kidding me?" Kirk raged on, drawing even more attention from the gathering crowd.

"Jim—I'm just say—," he paused and looked over Kirk's shoulder. "It's a nice day out isn't it?" He spat to a group of cadets who were among the several eyeing them over. They flinched at the harshness in his voice, and dispersed quickly. Once they were out of sight, Bones brought his attention back to Kirk. "I'm not asking you to do that Jim, I'm just saying that you need to stop and think about this. You're talking about your career here." Kirk felt his face heat up. He was barely able to comprehend what his friend was actually suggesting.

"Fuck my career Bones! This is Spock we're talking about!"

"And your life doesn't end just because he's not here!"

"You obviously don't know shit about my life then!" Kirk fired back as he made to turn around, Bones' presence becoming increasingly unbearable.

"Fine, let me put it another way, do you really think Spock would approve of you resigning?"

Kirk halted in his tracks, but didn't turn around. Bones soldiered on knowing he'd struck a nerve.

"He made it pretty damn clear that your career was important to him. He wouldn't want you to throw it all away Jim. You know that." Bones continued, his voice becoming considerably softer. It wasn't something new to Kirk. Of course Spock thought his career was important. Hell, he'd said explicitly back in that damn interrogation room for Kirk _not_ to even involve himself in this entire thing! Well fuck that. Kirk just couldn't do that. He _wouldn't _do that. Not to Spock. Keeping his face turned away, Kirk spoke in almost a whisper.

"There were a lot of things important to Spock."

Silence.

Kirk slowly turned around and regarded his friend.

"If you can honestly say 'yes' to what I'm about to ask you…then I won't resign. Deal?"

"Deal." Bones answered immediately. Kirk took a deep breath.

"If the situation was reversed, and it was me that had been framed and sent to prison, do you really think Spock wouldn't do the same thing that I'm trying to do for him? Think about it Bones. You know as well as I do from Uhura and Scotty how he reacted back in that engine room…" Kirk let his voice trail off and continued to stare at Bones who was starting to look more uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken.

"…Jim—," he started.

"Answer me Bones!" Kirk cut him off heatedly. Bones regarded him intensely for a few moments before finally giving his reply, albeit reluctantly.

"…No. He'd resign first." Kirk smirked, but there was no mirth in it. The answer—Kirk thought errantly—was so different than the one the doctor had given him several months ago.

_If I were there and Spock were here…what would he do?_

_He'd let you die. _

"Exactly. You understand why I have to do this then."

"Yes Jim! I understand—but goddammit! Just give it a day! At least give me that! Go home, and sleep on it, this is a big decision you're making here!" Bones argued. Kirk thought about refusing his friend's desperate request. Really, what he wanted to do, was march right the fuck back inside, straight up to Admiral Komack's office, and resign immediately. What he wouldn't _give_ to see the shock on the man's face once he learned that Starfleet's supposed '_Golden Boy', _was quitting the fleet. But Bones was giving him that look, that pleading look. He couldn't say no to that. It's not like he would change his mind, but at least Bones would be appeased for the time being.

"Fine. I'll sleep on it. Satisfied?"

Bones looked infinitely happier. "God yes."

Kirk rolled his eyes. "Come on. I need a drink." He said tiredly.

"You and me both, but for the love of God—and I never thought I'd say this…but let's stay away from the bars for now okay?"

"I have absolutely zero problem with that." Kirk agreed dramatically. This whole shit-storm had started in a bar, and he wasn't too keen on walking back into one just yet.

It was because of the intense need to avoid public drinking establishments that Kirk and Bones found themselves manning a shuttle craft, and traveling to the Enterprise—which was currently in Earth's _Spacedock_—and from there, straight to the Engineering Deck with Scotty and Keenser.

"So this is the famous distillery I've heard so much about!" Kirk exclaimed as he gulped the rest of his bottle of Romulan Ale down in one go. Scotty, who was sitting across from him, chuckled.

"Aye Cap'n, just got her all stocked up again too! And just in time since Starfleet has seen fit to rush the repairs on my lady here, which I'm none too fond about by the way." The Scotsman answered in annoyance as he finished off his own beverage, and hastily rummaged through his '_stock'_ to bring out another round of drinks.

"You're aware Mr. Scott, that this is against regulation?" Kirk stated, wanting to change the subject of the Enterprise's rushed refit. He really just wanted to forget about it all for a few hours.

"Aye Cap'n, of that I am aware."

"And if you know what's good for you Jim, you'll keep your mouth shut." Bones scolded him as he nursed his Saurian Brandy gingerly. Kirk threw his hands up in mock defense, and his drink sloshed heavily from his drunken imbalance. He could never hold his liquor well, at least not like Bones could. Usually that annoyed him, but tonight, he wouldn't mind getting a little drunk.

"I still don't like the Enterprise's refit being rushed Cap'n. She took quite a beatin', and she needs ta' be handled slowly and tenderly, not hastily." Scotty complained as he went back to their previous subject, much to Kirk's dismay. On any other day, the captain would've smiled at Scotty's seemingly sensual innuendos where his ship was concerned. If there was anyone who loved this ship just as much—if not more than him—it was Scotty, but today his heart just wasn't in it.

"I know Scotty, and I don't like it anymore than you do, but the orders come from upstairs. Someone wants me out of here in a hurry." Kirk said darkly as he took another sip. Bones grunted, but avoided Kirk's eyes.

"Because of Mr. Spock." Scotty inferred solemnly, hitting the nail on the head. Kirk frowned into his drink while Bones patted him supportively on the shoulder.

"Sorry Jim…I didnae' mean ta' upset ya." Scotty tried to apologize once he'd noticed what mentioning Spock had done to Kirk's mood, which had now completely plummeted. Damn alcohol and its ability to depress people even further!

Kirk waved him down nonchalantly. "It's fine Scotty. You're right though. I obviously have a track record for sticking my nose where it doesn't belong, and someone in Starfleet knows this. That's why they're trying to push us out the door so quickly."

"Aye, that's what Nyota told me."

Instantly Kirk and Bones broke eye contact with their alcohol, and stared at each other. Since when had Uhura become _Nyota_ to his Chief Engineer? Seeing the blush starting to creep up onto Scotty's face, it was obvious the Engineer caught onto to his own slip-up.

"Ah well, you know—when she commed me ta' fill me in on tha' details an' all…" He furthered as he shifted his feet around nervously. Seeing that the man was obviously uncomfortable, Kirk mercifully didn't press the subject.

"Well they're not getting rid of me that easily. They can send the Enterprise out into space, but that doesn't mean I have to be on it."

Bones sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. Scotty however, literally dropped his mouth open and gaped at him. "Cap'n! What do ya mean? Yer not—not resigning are ye?" He stuttered in disbelief.

"Jim! You promised me you'd sleep on it!" Bones admonished him. Kirk glared at him before taking another swig.

"And I'm not breaking that promise! I said, it doesn't mean I have to be on it! That's a fact Bones. I literally don't have to be on the Enterprise in order for her to leave." Kirk said, carefully choosing his words.

"Don't go all _Spock_ on me Jim. I know what you meant." Kirk flinched at the reference_,_ and gazed down at his glass again, thoughts of Spock rampaging through his mind.

_His hand on mine in that hallway…before they took him away…_Kirk thought despondently as he continued to recall the rest of the memory. It was even more painful now to think of it, which probably had a lot to do with the fact that he was more than a little tipsy at this point.

"Ah shit, I'm sorry Jim. I didn't mean to bring…to bring him up. That was a dick move." Bones tried to apologize as he palmed his forehead. Kirk didn't say anything. He was having to concentrate too hard on not breaking down right here and now. _Fucking alcohol, should have known better than to get drunk._

The three men sat in awkward silence for five more minutes before Kirk decided he couldn't sit there anymore. Shakily, he got to his feet and instantly had to steady himself on the bulkhead for fear of falling over. "I think I'm gonna call it a night guys, I'm really tired." He slurred and grabbed at his temples to steady the dizziness experienced just from talking.

"You're not flying anywhere in that condition Jim, and I'm not flying you back down to Earth. Just stay up on the ship for the night. Sleep it off." Bones suggested in a motherly tone as he stood up to help steady his swaying friend.

"Okay _mom_." He retorted sarcastically as he shrugged his friend's hand off and made his way to the nearest turbolift. Bones made to follow him, but Kirk put out a hand to halt him. "Please Bones…I really just want to be alone right now. I'll be fine. I promise you I'll make it to my quarters in one piece. I'm not so drunk yet that I can't even make my way around my own ship." He protested. Bones didn't look entirely convinced, but nevertheless, sat back down, albeit reluctantly. Right before he got out of ear range, he could just make out Scotty's voice.

"He's not takin' this well at all is he…"

"No…no he's not." Was Bones' reply.

((oOo))

It took him a while, but after stumbling onto five different decks—none of which housed the senior officers' quarters—he finally found the correct one. Stumbling down the hallway, Kirk had to brace himself along the wall as he staggered along, mumbling incoherently to himself. The bottle of Romulan Ale was still being utilized the entire way. When he finally came to the correct door, his fingers fumbled with the code until finally—_finally—_he managed to punch in the right one, and all but fell into his room.

He hadn't been here for seven months now, but his decorations and some of his personal items still littered the room like he had just been here yesterday. There hadn't been a need to take anything down to Earth with him, being that he would be returning here eventually, so it was—as Spock had said—_logical, _to just leave everything here. Usually he felt a sense of rightness being in this room, but tonight, it just felt…wrong.

He stumbled over to his bed and sat down on the edge of it, his gaze down at the floor. After a few moments, he lifted his head up and stared at the door that led into Spock and his shared bathroom. _I wonder if Spock left anything behind on the ship? _No sooner had the thought crossed his mind was Kirk up and darting over to the bathroom. Once inside, he rushed over to Spock's door, and punched in the override code which would allow him entrance. It took him a couple of attempts—given his impaired senses—but eventually he was successful.

As soon as the door slid open, Kirk rushed into the room, his eyes scanning every inch of it. Just like him, Spock had also left some of his personal things behind on the ship. _Because he thought he'd be returning. _

Kirk walked further into the room until he was at the foot of Spock's bed. He traced his hands over the fine, red comforter which was adorned with Vulcan symbols—so different from the regulation comforter on Kirk's own bed._ Goddammit Spock! How am I going to do this? What am I supposed to do! _He inwardly cried as he threw himself down onto the bed and hugged Spock's pillow to his chest. Surprisingly, the pillow still held Spock's somewhat spicy scent, and Kirk couldn't resist inhaling that scent as deeply as possible.

He wasn't aware when it started, but he was crying now…crying into Spock's pillow…the pillow that still smelled so much like him. "God Spock, if you saw me now, making a wet mess all over your pillow, you'd probably fucking choke me again." He said to no one in particular as the tears fell with more intensity down his face.

As he lay there, he couldn't help wondering what Spock was doing at that moment. Was it night time where he was? And if so, would he be able to sleep? Did he even have a bed to sleep in? Kirk noted the sweat that had begun to form on his brow from the Vulcan temperature settings in the room, which had yet to be reset. Spock was always complaining about how the ship was too cold. Was it cold where he was now? Did they—whoever the fuck had Spock—even care if it was too cold? He thought back to when Spock was in Starfleet's detention center, how his nose had been tinged green from the temperature being too low for him. How Spock had said that they had refused to raise it for him. The fucking bastards.

_No, _he decided, _they probably don't care_. Spock was probably freezing wherever he was, and no one gave a damn.

"I'm so sorry Spock….I'm so sorry." He kept repeating over and over to himself as the tears continued to fall, effectively soaking the pillow. He didn't know when he finally went to sleep, only that he did eventually, and he didn't notice when Bones had used his own override code to come into the room to ensure that Jim was okay, and that he hadn't decided to fly off the ship after all.

"Jesus Jim…I'm so sorry kid." Bones muttered quietly before turning the air settings down a little bit—as Kirk had been sweating profusely on top of the bed—and retreating back to his own quarters.

**A.N. Hope you guys enjoyed it! And, the next chapter is where things start getting sexually graphic. I will place warnings, and, because I know some people get queasy, I'm going to post XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX before the scene which I'm referring too, (and will probably do this with all scenes like this) and also at the end of the scene, so that if you don't want to read it, you can pass over it, and I'll briefly summarize it at the end. I feel like the scenes are necessary, so I'm not taking them out. Thanks again for reading and please tell me what you think!**


	11. Innocence Lost

**A.N WARNING! GRAPHIC SEXUAL CONTENT!**

**Just a side note...I do not condone rape, at all, I'm merely depicting it because it is necessary to the character development in this story...however, I know that some people may be offended so before the actual scene...I have placed XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX before and after so that you may skip over it if you wish. **

**Also, a HUUUUGE thank you to my three wonderful betas! Fangoul, Rubyhair, and SakuraMinaMino! I could NOT be doing this without you! **

**I do not own Star Trek! **

**Doradus Prime**

**Stardate 2259.284**

Spock waited patiently in the long line of prisoners for the guards to grant him permission to remove his radiation suit, and allow him to return to the _Prison Pop_. On his second day here, Warden Brixton wasted no time in putting him to work in the Dilithium mines, as Dalton had already predicted. He had also been selected to work in the Diriduim mines—as he had come to find out was yet _another_ mineral mined on Doradus Prime—on Monday and Thursday nights.

Normally, Spock would not have had a problem with labor such as this. He was Vulcan after all, and his strength was perfectly suited for the tasks involved in mining for the two minerals. However, during the whole ten days he had been resident on Doradus—_ten illogically long days—_his four visits to the _Limbo Room_ had left him mentally and physically exhausted.

Spock did not know who to be more wary of. His fellow inmates? Or the doctors—and one doctor in particular—who took such sadistic glee in experimenting on said inmates, and more specifically, experimenting on him.

Spock's body shifted roughly to the side as none other than Lokar, and a few choice members of his group, abruptly brushed his shoulder with theirs.

"Thanks for saving us a spot, _Vulcan." _Lokar spat sarcastically as he continued on past him, and resumed waiting with the rest of them to be checked out.

If they had been in the _Prison Pop_, Spock would have braced himself for an attack, but as they were in the mining tunnels, he knew it was highly unlikely that the Romulans would attempt a physical encounter while they were still there; not while the work being done was so heavily observed. The guards might not have given care to the fact that so many inmates engaged in physical encounters with one another in the _Prison Pop, _but here in the mines, horseplay, as Dalton had coined it was not permitted. Spock failed to see how prisoners fighting amongst one another was equal to the way equines interacted, but he made no comment.

Occasionally, Lokar or one of his comrades would attempt to sabotage his efforts by knocking his pickaxe out of his hands, or purposefully tripping him, thereby causing him to drop any Dilithium crystals he had been attempting to haul back over to the specified carts. The acts themselves were beginning to irritate Spock, but it seemed that the guards either did not _see _said acts, or more than likely, just did not care. So, Spock held his temper in check. The last thing he wished to do was instigate another fight with the Romulans. As he pondered this, he subconsciously rubbed at his side, which was still severely bruised and sore from the fight that had broken out between them two days ago in the mess hall for refusing to give them his purchased meal. He had left the mess hall sporting a bloody nose, and an empty stomach.

This was why he held his silence as they took his place in line. It was not worth the confrontation that might ensue back in the _Prison Pop,_ should he attempt to rectify the situation. When his turn finally came, Spock could not be happier—_no, that was not a logical term—_he could not be more _relieved_ to finally be able to rid himself of the radiation suit—which—to his immense dismay, had been damaged by years of usage in the mines. It was not entirely non-functional, as he had not yet collapsed from radiation poisoning. However, it was hard to ignore the slight burning sensation he found himself enduring due to prolonged exposure in the suit. Spock was even starting to notice slight rashes erupting in various areas on his body, rashes that seemed to exist on most, if not all of the prisoners here.

_"They give us all shots about once a week to keep us from getting radiation poisoning, but they're not as strong as they need to be, hence the rashes..." _Dalton had informed him when he returned from his first shift in the mines and questioned the human about this. He had been unable to keep the shocked disgust out of his voice upon learning that his suit would obviously not be protecting him from the harsh environmental conditions in the tunnels.

"_But they're strong enough to keep you alive at least,"_ the human had encouraged.

Dalton's words had hardly reassured him though. While the injections the prisoners were receiving were strong enough to keep death at bay, being in constant exposure to radiation would indeed have long term effects, regardless of the vaccines used to prevent against it. Spock had suspected that Dalton was not aware of this due to his limited knowledge on the subject, but he could not bring himself to correct him. He did not want to be the cause of needless anxiety when there was nothing that could be done about it.

The guard's gruff voice brought Spock out of his musings.

"You didn't meet your quota for the day," he stated sardonically, his eyes narrowing at Spock's.

"I understand." Spock replied simply, knowing full well that Lokar was the reason behind his inability to meet the demands prescribed to him. His required quota was already quite challenging, and when you had an unruly group of Romulans attempting to sabotage your every move…

"I don't think you do understand, _Vulcan._ We set a quota for a reason. Care to explain to me why you don't feel the need to meet this basic requirement? You think you're special or something?" The man fumed, his stance shifting into one of a predatory nature. Spock raised his eyebrows.

"Negative. I was merely stating that I understood that I did indeed fail to meet your requirements, and it was due to certain _circumstances_ that were out of my control," he retorted impassively. A week ago, Spock might have confided in the guard about Lokar and his continued attempts to sabotage his work in the mines. However, he knew now it would not benefit him. The guards were well aware of the constant harassment the Romulans subjected him to. On several occasions, Spock had witnessed the guards actually laughing at the scene from the sidelines, as though it were humorous somehow. It was mind boggling to know that less than a month ago, Spock had been a superior officer to these men.

The guard eyed him disdainfully before checking something off on his PADD, which he held in front of him. "I see. Well, I guess that means you get to spend the remainder of your evening here in the tunnels then until that quota is met. In fact, since you felt the need to give me attitude about it, you can go ahead and triple that amount."

Instantly calculating the amount of time it would take him to meet those new demands, Spock stared at the man before him in disbelief. Surely he would not be expected to remain down here for another six point four hours. There was a reason why the prisoners mined in the tunnels during an allotted time frame. The prison staff at Doradus Prime was well aware of the state of their radiation suits. Hypo or no hypo, unless they planned on supplying the prisoners with fully functional suits, time spent in the tunnels would have to be limited. Logically, Spock was certain it would be more cost-effective to just replace all of the radiation suits with brand new ones, as opposed to subjecting them to weekly hypo vaccinations to counter the exposure. However, when he brought this up to Dalton, the human had said that it gave the prison just another way to slowly work its' prisoners to death.

A month ago, Spock would not have believed such an accusation. Now though, he was not so sure anymore.

"That is illogical. My suit is not in adequate shape for such prolonged exposure to the gamma radiation in these tunnels," Spock argued, inwardly wincing at the idea of having to experience this burning sensation for another six hours. Not to mention, how detrimental it would likely be to his health. The guard smiled at him before waving him out the way so he could attend to the prisoner behind him.

"Then I suggest you step to it," he said dismissively, not even bothering to look him in the eye anymore.

Spock continued to stare for approximately five point six more seconds, but the guard blatantly ignored him. Allowing himself to sigh, he turned half-heartedly back towards the digging area, his pickaxe in tow.

((oOo))

By the time he had arrived back in _Prison Pop_, the evening meal had already taken place. Not that Spock would have partaken in the meal anyway. He had harbored an appetite before, but now he just felt nauseated from the radiation. The rashes on his skin were now an angry emerald color, and to say that they were irritating would be an understatement. They burned fiercely. If Dr. McCoy were here, he would have given Spock a salve of some sort to ease the sensation. He was not here though. He would likely never see the doctor again. He briefly let his thoughts wander to Jim, but immediately ceased. It was just too painful to think of _him_ right now.

As he shuffled back to his cell, he was aware of Dalton running along up beside him, a smile plastered on his face. That smile quickly turned into a look of concern as the young human took in the nauseated expression on the Vulcan's face.

"Man, you don't look…" he began as the two entered into the cell where Spock immediately vomited onto the floor, "…so good," he finished sympathetically, and went to help Spock to his cot (or what was to be an excuse for one.) As soon as Dalton touched his arm, the human's thoughts marched through him. _Concern/worry/manhelookstoogreen, _bombarded Spock's mind and threatened the feebly erected shields he had in place. Wrenching back his arm, Spock waved him away.

"I assure you, I am fine. It is the radiation which has affected me. It will pass. Until then, I respectfully request to be left alone." Spock stated as he brought his hands to his forehead in an attempt to ease his nausea.

Dalton did not look like he approved of Spock's suggestion for solitude. "Well, at least let me help you clean this up," he offered as he began to make his way over to the sink to no doubt acquire water to clean up Spock's bile with.

"That is not necessary. I am quite capable of doing that myself. Please, leave." Spock countered, not intending for it to come out so rudely. However, the shame he felt at being seen in such a state was humiliating to say the least, and he wished to experience it in solitude.

Dalton narrowed his eyes at him, and straightened up, obviously annoyed. "Fine then Spock, whatever you say. I'm not supposed to be here anyway, Jacques would kill me if he knew," he said coldly before he abruptly exited the cell. Aside from their first encounter in the mess hall on Spock's first day, he had yet to speak to the older human known as Jacques, but from what Dalton had said to him, the man definitely did not approve of his continued presence around the Vulcan.

Spock stared at the empty space that Dalton once occupied, half expecting the youth to come barging back in, and demanding that he let him provide assistance, but he did not. He reverted back to the vomit still littering the floor. He needed to remove it as soon as possible, or it would just become increasingly difficult to clean, and likely attract something unseemly.

Tearing off a bit of fabric from his poor excuse of a blanket, Spock forced himself off the cot, winced at the sudden head rush he experienced as a result as well as the second urge to vomit, and got down on his hands and knees to wipe it away. He would go over the spot again with water later, but for now, he just wished to remove it from the floor. As he laboriously padded the area, he had to pause momentarily to quell the third surge of nausea that passed through him. It was this inward battle he was having with his digestive system that caused him not to notice the sudden arrival of four new occupants in his cell, nor the additional two who continued to linger out in the corridor.

"Already getting into position for us? I like that," a masculine, yet high pitched, almost aristocratic voice sounded from the opening of the cell.

Startled, Spock's head snapped up to the sight of the Cardassians he had initially seen on his first day here in the mess hall. The same individuals who had been openly glaring at him as they talked amongst themselves—probably in reference to him.

"I hope we weren't…interrupting anything?" The male in the middle, who Spock remembered distinctly—for he was the one who had fixed the Vulcan with that unsettling gaze ten days ago—said in feigned politeness as he sauntered further into Spock's cell. The other three, one of them female, came in right behind him.

A sudden cold feeling dropped in the bottom of Spock's stomach, where it curled next to his nausea. He was not quite sure what these Cardassians were doing here, but it in all probability was not going to bode well for him. "As a matter of fact, I would very much appreciate being left alone." Spock answered as he made to stand to his full height. He was aware that his wishes were probably going to be in vain, but he still felt compelled to make the attempt.

The female laughed loudly from beside her male counterpart, the scaly ridges which trailed down her deltoids accentuated by the act. Spock stared at her. "That's the problem with you Vulcans. You think you are so much…_better_ than everyone else," she seethed, but the other one waved her down gently with his ridged hand.

"Now, we have done the well-bred thing, and introduced ourselves, and now _you're_ the one being impolite, and refusing to acknowledge our company. That's not very good manners, Vulcan." The male in the middle chastised, and moved ever so closer towards Spock, who was now back on his feet, tensing for an altercation. Hopefully, he could avoid one. His chances of winning in his current state were less than two percent.

"I apologize if I have offended you. It was not my intention. However, I find myself ill at the moment, and therefore request privacy," Spock tried again, half-heartedly hoping that maybe this group really _was_ just curious about him, and perhaps did not bode him any ill intentions at all. For some, illogical reason, it was Jim's voice which carried through him. _Not a snowball's chance in hell, _he said, and Spock agreed.

"He does look rather sickly, doesn't he Norkot? The half-breed obviously can't hack it in the mines. I always knew the Vulcans were a weaker race than they led everyone to believe." The female accused venomously as she eyed Spock up and down.

"An astute observation Seska," Norkot answered her as he too began to look Spock over, his dark eyes holding a predatory gleam.

Spock straightened himself up even more at the insult, but kept his face impassive. "I will ask again, please leave," he requested with considerably more force. It was at this moment that Spock noticed the two males who had been just outside his cell, move into the room, and blocked the entrance. The four that already lingered inside slowly began to descend upon him.

"What are your intentions?" Spock asked quickly as he found himself slowly being backed up to the wall. They had him cornered now.

"Not good," the female known as Seska, responded mischievously. Norkot stared at her, a wry smile on his lips.

"Speak for yourself my dear, I intend to enjoy this. I intend to bend this Vulcan to my will, as is my right as a Cardassian," Norkot responded right before he lunged at Spock with surprising speed.

Spock immediately shifted out of the way, but it did not matter. He was outnumbered—and—as Nyota would have said—outgunned. His Vulcan strength would not aid him against the Cardassians, not in his condition.

No sooner had Norkot lunged past him and into the wall, had the other three managed to grab a hold of him and began beating him fiercely. The scientist in Spock had already begun comparing and contrasting their fighting techniques with those of the Romulans, and while Lokar and his group were indeed violent…the Cardassians seemed doubly so.

Just before he felt like he might very likely lose consciousness, the beating ceased, and Spock was left to fall ungracefully into a heap on the floor, blood leaking out of his mouth and onto the cold stone where he lay. For half a second, Spock actually felt a small trickle of relief as he lay there attempting to regain his bearings. If their goal was to indeed physically assault him, they had achieved that goal, and would now leave him be.

The rough hands that grabbed his shirt and hastened him up onto the cot shattered that relief. Obviously they were not finished with him. Spock attempted to lift his body up off the cot, to regain some form of control over the situation, but his attempts were thwarted as a hand snaked in his hair, and slammed his head harshly down onto the cot, his right cheek pressing violently against it.

"You will submit!" Norkot's voice screamed into his ears as various arms pinned him, belly down, to the cot. Due to the way they were positioning him, it was not too difficult to conclude what was very likely about to take place. The assault of angry, yet lustful thoughts that engulfed him through the physical contact only confirmed his hypothesis. A deep sense of dread sank into him.

As they held him still, another pair of hands, presumably Norkot's, began fumbling with his pants, obviously trying to work them down, and off of Spock's body. If he had any questions about their intentions before, he definitely did not now, and the thought of what they were about to do to him sent him into a very human panic.

With all the strength he could muster, Spock fought against his assailants. He would not—_could not_—let them do this. Contrary to what people in the past had assumed must have taken place between him and Nyota, Spock had yet to enter into sexual relations with anyone. It was something Vulcans took very, _very_ seriously. He had yet to engage in sexual intercourse, and he did not wish to do so now…not like this.

"It's no use fighting Vulcan! I will have your submission!" Norkot bellowed as he shifted his hand from Spock's head to his face, and pushed it harshly against the cot. The sudden influx of emotions from the skin-to-skin contact on his meld points caused Spock to instinctively gasp. Intense feelings of anger, lust, hate, and desire poured through the forced link, and he found himself quickly overwhelmed by them. He attempted to erect some sort of mental shield, but he had been too surprised, and too panicked at the thought of what was about to happen to him to successfully shield himself. The fact that the Cardassian's fingers were touching those sensitive points on his face did not help make matters easier.

With his head and body held in place, Norkot's other hand resumed the hasty removal of his pants. The sudden chilled air of the room upon his naked flesh told Spock that Norkot had been successful in that endeavor as well. He then removed his hand from Spock's face just long enough to divest the Vulcan of his shirt as well. Now, he was completely naked and exposed. That feat accomplished, Norkot's hand resumed its original position on his face.

Clearly unable to resist, Spock simply asked one thing, "Why? Why are you doing this?" He voiced, though the sound was muffled due to his face being pressed against the cot. In the few seconds it took for Norkot to answer, the alien had already thrust both of his knees in between Spock's thighs and forced them apart. Spock felt cold, unbelievingly cold. _It is not supposed to be like this, _his human half illogically sought to inform him.

"I know Vulcans to be a proud race, Spock, even though they would never admit such a thing…" Norkot's hand now inched up Spock's exposed thigh, and into the crease of his buttocks, exploring the Vulcan's flesh without an ounce of humility. Spock squirmed, and was instantly ashamed at doing so. _Jim. Jim was supposed to be the person he chose, not these aliens, _he internally lamented. More shame.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"But we Cardassians are an even prouder race, and it is my duty—my _right_—to show you that I am the dominant one in this place, not you. The Federation does not own me. I will take from you your precious pride. I will make you submit," Norkot spat at him before spreading his cheeks apart harshly, and thrusting himself into Spock.

Spock had intended to remain silent, to keep at least that much of his dignity, but he could not help crying out from the initial sharp pain the forced entry brought on. This only excited the Cardassian currently astride him.

He had sometimes imagined what this very sensation would feel like. He had expected a slight amount of pain, the research he had done into the subject informed him of that much, but he had not expected this. This unbearable, relentless plunging that stabbed through him until he felt like the alien might actually come through his other side. He could not see Norkot, but he imagined that his genitalia must be vastly different from what a human's, or a Vulcan's would be. He imagined that just like the skin of a Cardassian, which was lined with hard ridges, the reproductive organ must also be lined with ridges. Unfortunately that fact turned out to be extremely painful to Spock.

The strong emotions that Norkot had transferred earlier continued to assault Spock twice as intensely as before, only adding to the pain that the alien's vigorous thrusts left him with. Not having the mental strength to shield himself, and not wanting to give them the satisfaction of hearing him cry out again, Spock did the only thing he could think to do at that moment to at least escape from the mental aspect of his assault, he called out to his father through their bond.

He had probed the bond on and off since he had become imprisoned, but he had never called out to his father with such force…such _need_ at being answered. He needed the mental fortitude of his father to push Norkot out of his mind, as he was obviously unable to do so. Then, he thought of the shame which was being forced upon him. The last person he would wish to know he was experiencing this would be Sarek, and perhaps Jim, who probably would never even consider him as a partner after this, if he were even to see him again. It would only bring him more illogical humiliation and shame if his father knew, add to that the fact that it would undoubtedly upset Sarek…and Spock did not wish to do that.

So, just as his call through the bond was being answered with what couldn't possibly be _worry_ or dare he say it—_affection—_from his father, Spock hastily diverted all the mental strength he had left to block him out, knowing that it would leave him with no chance of thwarting Norkot's continued mental assault. His father's feelings, even if the Vulcan would not admit to having them, were more important to him. He would endure this alone. It was his shame to bear.

Eventually Norkot's thrusts became more sporadic, and more vigorous in their rhythm, as if he were building up to something. The pain from it threatened to rip Spock apart as he was violently pushed forward until his head was repeatedly hitting the wall in front of him. He would not cry out though. He had to stay silent, he had to keep that last shred of dignity still allotted to him. So, he forced himself to endure it in silence.

With one last intense push, which lingered uncomfortably inside him, Norkot yanked Spock's head back with a forceful tug of his hair before finally falling forward onto his back, obviously spent. His sweaty, coarse flesh collapsed against Spock's fevered skin, and pushed him further into the cot, but Spock did not have any fight left in him to recoil. What was done was done.

_I am sorry, Jim. _

"Now _that_ was an initiation, wouldn't you agree?" Norkot breathed into his ear, his spidery fingers tangling themselves in his hair.

Spock did not respond, he was too numb to respond with any kind of logical reply.

Norkot tugged harshly on his hair once more before sliding off and out of him.

Spock winced as the ridged organ ripped at his inner walls, which were now inflamed and torn. He halfway expected the pain he was experiencing in his lower extremities to cease with the alien's exit, but it did not…it continued to burn and throb intensely.

"Alright Tavor…he is all yours," Norkot stated humorously the pair of hands, which had been securing him during the ordeal, traded places with Norkot's own.

_Surely not,_ Spock thought in horror to himself as he began to panic again. The experience with Norkot had been enough, in fact, it had been too much. How could he go through it again? The pain, the emotions…they were too great…too overwhelming…

But it did not matter what Spock felt, or how much he did not want them to touch him, to invade in the most personal of ways save for the raping of the mind—though that was not far off. His choice had been taken away from him, and it continued to be taken away from him with each eager, insensitive thrust from the next four aliens.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

When the group of Cardassians finally left, Spock could do nothing but lay there on the cot, and stare at the wall in numb disbelief as his body quaked and trembled. The echo of the emotions which his assailants had forced upon him still lingered in his mind, bringing forth the nausea he had been experiencing since his time in the mines full force. Sitting up abruptly, Spock did not even make it off the bed before his body's stomach acid came spewing out onto the floor, some of it getting on his arms which were marred with the radiation rashes from the mines, and now—with bruised handprints from the Cardassians when they had held him down.

His chest heaved in and out rapidly as he fought to get his breathing under control. Assuming that this would be an easier achievement if he sat up, Spock fought to gain his bearings in order to do so. However, as he tried to sit down with his back against his cot, he winced in agony, and actually let out an audible whimper. The contact from his buttocks as it touched the floor gave him nothing but pure, sharp jabs of pain. He felt like his bottom half had been ripped open, and someone had shoved a hot poker inside it over and over again. It was illogical, as that had not been done, but it still felt that way.

He tried once again to employ his Vulcan control, to push the pain away until it was no longer noticeable to him, but he was unable to. His human control was running rampant at the moment, and no amount of concentration was going to save him from this…unbearable feeling which coursed through his very being.

He tried to turn his thoughts to more pleasant times, but the only thing he could think of…the only thing he could _feel_ was the Cardassian's coarse, ridged member assaulting his body over and over. The sounds of their grunts, and the sound that their skin made as it slapped against his relentlessly, pounded into his ears. His current mental turmoil was illogical, for the attack had long ceased, and he was very much alone in his cell, but he could not stop it…he could not drown it out. He felt violated. He felt humiliated and shamed. He wished that he could reduce his size so much so, that should anyone enter his cell at that moment, he would be no bigger than a terran fly.

_I wish Jim were here._

No. He did not wish that. If Jim were here, he would be ashamed, disgusted even. Or worse than that, he might have also become an unwilling participant in the vile thing that had just taken place. Spock should have been able to protect himself. He should have been able to thwart their attack. His weakness had cost him something sacred…his virginity. He would never get that back.

Unable to bear the pain of sitting on the floor any longer, Spock shakily made to stand up. A sudden feeling of thick liquid began to make its' way out of him, and down his inner thighs where it pooled onto the floor. Upon closer inspection, he realized the liquid was a mixture between his own blood, and something else…

The mere thought of the Cardassian's _something else _having any contact with his skin was enough to disgust him thoroughly, and he could think of nothing more than getting if off of him as soon as possible. The longer it lingered inside, and on him, the louder the grunts and smacks became in his ears, threatening to deafen him.

Hastily, Spock grabbed for his pants which had been thrown carelessly across the cell, and proceeded to put them on. He then tugged his shirt back on as well, and shot out of his room. He was aware that the hour was very late, and that he risked not making it back in time for the Roll Call, but he found he did not care. All that mattered was that he thoroughly cleanse himself of every foreign bodily fluid on, and within him.

With extreme difficulty, Spock half limped, half jogged through the corridors, drawing all manner of awkward stares from the aliens who witnessed him do this. He knew he must have looked strange to them by the way he was walking with his hand placed delicately on his lower back to stave off the pain that assaulted him violently as he moved. Not to mention, his face probably resembled, as Jim would have said, a _punching bag._

Some of the inmates gave him looks of pity in the form of shaking their heads at him remorsefully…as if they knew what had been done. This made Spock feel even worse. He could barely take knowing what had been done to him himself, let alone the countless strangers who had no doubt come to their own conclusions.

As he rounded the third corridor leading up to the sanitation room, Spock caught a glimpse of Lokar and T'Vara leaning up against a wall, deep in conversation. When they noticed him, Lokar's eyes widened in glee at the sight of him, obviously quite thrilled at the ordeal that Spock had been put through. He wondered vaguely if perhaps the Cardassians had told others what they had planned to do to him before coming to his cell. That would explain why so many seemed to give away the fact that they knew with just a look.

When Spock looked to T'Vara, she did not share the same gleeful expression as her brother. In fact, there was no expression on her face at all…and Spock did not know what to think of that. Fortunately, the Romulans did not bother him as he suspected they might. They were quite content with laughing loudly amongst themselves at his situation, which was just as well. Spock did not think he could stomach dealing with _them _right now anyway. He could barely deal with himself.

The sanitation room was fortunately scarce in its' occupancy that night, which seemed to be the case during late hours such as these anyway. Most of the inmates had already sufficiently cleansed themselves, and made their way back to their cells to prevent the possibility of not making it before Roll Call commenced, and the barriers erected themselves, effectively locking them out and subjecting them to the whims of the _Prison Pop_ which, from Dalton's explanation, was quite brutal during the night, and was also how a lot of prisoners sometimes met their ends.

Spock looked to the back of the room and noticed that the shower stalls in that area were empty, much to his relief. Before he shed his clothing, Spock glanced around himself to make sure no one was watching him, or that no one intended to attack him again. Being that he had just been…_raped, _he felt uncharacteristically self conscious, and vulnerable without his clothing on. He had never had these feelings before, and vaguely he wondered if he would continue to experience them. He hoped he did not.

The cold water felt like ice to his skin, and considerably worsened his trembling, but he did not care. In fact, it seemed to have a slight soothing effect to his numerous rashes, which were already quite feverish to the touch. He let the water pour over him until he was thoroughly soaked with it, before hastily grabbing the chemical-infused bar of soap. The first place he scrubbed was his lower extremities, and he scrubbed them quite intensely, ignoring the pain which the movement coaxed out of him. He then proceeded to lather his entire body up with it. There were not any sponges or bath brushes lying about, so Spock had to settle for using his hands to massage the substance into his skin—his nails in particular acted as the bristles on a scrub brush.

The disinfectant contained within the soap caused his rashes to scream in agony, but once again he chose to endure this. He would not be satisfied until he had scrubbed every inch—every _trace—_of those Cardassians off of his body.

It was not until much later, after he had successfully managed to scrub his skin with his fingernails until it was raw and chaffed, that he realized he had been the only one left in the sanitation room, and that the barrier to said room had erupted, effectively locking him inside. He had missed Roll Call. His punishment for that would be inevitable, though he would gladly take whatever punishment the Warden had for him over what he had just experienced. Gladly.

((oOo))

"Kirk might not be happy about it, but unless he intends to tender his resignation, he'll have no choice but to head the Enterprise's five-year mission." Admiral Covington said evenly to the man seated before him, who was currently steepling his fingers under his chin.

"Oh, I do not doubt that we have heard the last out of the young captain, but word on the street is that James Kirk is actually considering leaving the fleet. Is that true?" The man inquired. Covington twitched nervously.

"That's just a rumor admiral, sir. It hasn't been confirmed, and I personally don't think Kirk could stand to part with the Enterprise. He's practically romancing that ship," he replied casually.

"What other news have you brought me Admiral Covington? Or did you just come here to tell me that which I already know, and blow smoke up my ass?" The man behind the desk asked curtly.

Covington shuffled his feet nervously before looking the man in the eyes. "We have a problem…"

The other man narrowed his eyes. "What problem?"

"It's the Vulcan Ambassador, sir. From the feed we've been listening to in Kirk's quarters, not only is the Ambassador quite intent on helping them investigate further, but the footage here recently shows that Sarek has been trying to communicate with his son." Covington relayed nervously, although the man in front of him did not look surprised.

"I see." He stated thoughtfully, making Covington raise an eyebrow.

"Sir?"

"I had hoped that the distance between Spock and his father would have closed that avenue. At least, that's what I've been informed. Has there been any success?"

"I wouldn't call it _success,_ admiral, there's definitely some communication going on there, but I don't think it's been very fruitful." Covington replied before adding, "what should we do sir? If Sarek learns the location of his son, I wouldn't put it past Kirk to go running off to his rescue." There was a long pause between the two men before the man currently seated fixed Covington with a hard, calculated gaze.

"Leave it to me. I happen to have a contact who knows a thing or two about Vulcan telepathy," He finished darkly.

**A.N. For those that skipped over the scene...Spock was raped by the Cardassians, and it was not fun...during it, he tried to call out to Sarek through the bond, but blocked him off at the last second because he did not want sarek to know what he was going through. That's pretty much what you missed if you chose not to read that part. **

**Please review and let me know what you think! Also...I'm not sure if mining for Dilithium is radioactive or not, but it is in my story so just go with it hehehehehe**


	12. A Clean Break

**A.N A big thank you to my betas! They are freaking awesome and I can't imagine writing this without them! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek, I just torture their characters profusely. **

Chapter 12:

A Clean Break

The sound of the morning alarms going off all throughout the _Prison Pop_ brought Spock out of the uneasy slumber he had slipped into sometime during the night. If he had not been so exhausted, he probably would not have been able to sleep given last night's events, but basic physical need won out in the end.

Upon realizing that he had slept naked, and in a fetal position in one of the shower stalls was somewhat disturbing to Spock, for he had no recollection of ever falling asleep to begin with. It was unlike him to be so absentminded. Before, if such a thing had happened to him, he would have immediately meditated afterward to process and control the emotional backlash being sexually assaulted might entice. However, such times were long and far away now. Since he had arrived here, meditation seemed nearly impossible. The constant need to be alert and aware of one's surroundings, as well as the never-ending exhaustion successfully thwarted each of Spock's attempts to enter into a trance.

The dull ache and stiffness in his back and neck from lying on the floor in such an awkward position could not compare in the slightest to the intense pain that still assaulted his rectal area. He had hoped that the injuries that Norkot and the other Cardassians had bestowed upon him would have deadened somewhat by now. This was not the case. Spock still felt the same throbbing and burning around his channel that he had immediately felt after, and during the attack. A small flicker of panic shot through him at the idea that maybe he had been injured more severely than he had first ascertained.

He quickly closed his eyes and used his mind techniques to more deeply assess the damage, and almost sighed in relief when he came to the conclusion that his injuries were not critical, and did not require immediate medical attention. _Not that I would receive it anyway, _he thought.There were a few tears and abrasions which lined his inner rectal walls, but they would heal in time. 

The radiation burns on his body looked better today, and Spock wondered if the soap had anything to do with the apparent improvement. The intense stinging sensation the chemical elicited when it came into contact with his burns would suggest otherwise, but then again, rubbing alcohol also burned quite vigorously when poured over an open wound. This did not negate the benefits of it when utilized in such a way.

After finding his clothes which he had thrown in the first place available, and putting them back on, Spock wandered out of the sanitation room and decided it would be logical to go straight to the mess hall. He needed to acquire some form of sustenance. He did not have an appetite, not in the slightest, last night's attack had seen to that, but he knew he would not be useful to anyone, including himself if he did not keep what energy he had at a functional level.

The mess hall was crowded like it usually was this time in the morning as Spock hurried to get a place in line. The sooner he acquired his meal, the sooner he could eat it, and get on with the day, put it behind him and prepare for the next one which would inevitably follow. This particular method of viewing his time here seemed to be the only way Spock could logically cope with it. He had to examine things in a day-to-day perspective. To view it any differently only unsettled him, given that he would be here for the rest of his life. He had to cope. He had to learn to process this.

Today was Thursday, so he knew that after his shift in the Dilithium mines, which was always shortened on Mondays and Thursdays due to the Diridium shifts, he would get at least 1.5 hours in between before having to work the required night shift. While these particular days were proving to be physically exhausting to the Vulcan as the days wore on, for the first time ever he was actually looking forward to the strenuous work. It meant less time spent in his cell, thinking of nothing but what the Cardassians had done to him. And since he found it almost impossible to meditate, it would be best not to be alone with his thoughts and emotions, lest they betray him.

Now, not only did he have to watch out for the Romulans, but also the Cardassians. Though, if he had to choose between the two, he would gladly face the Romulans. At least they had not tried to sexually assault him yet.

Obscene memories from last night began to race through Spock's head again, and for the first time ever he cursed his eidetic memory. It did not help when he acquired his meal, slid his wrist underneath the scanner so that his credits could be transferred, and began hunting for a place to seat himself, that he saw the villains that currently plagued his memories. The Cardassians were all seated about twenty feet from him, smirks on all of their faces. Norkot winked before waving at him, a gesture Spock did _not_ return. Instead, he turned swiftly on his heel and found an open space at a lightly occupied table as far away from the Cardassians as possible.

He was barely seated 1.4 minutes when Dalton came shoving in beside him, slamming his tray ungracefully down onto the table. Two Orions, and oddly enough a male Tellarite were conversing quietly amongst each other across the table when Dalton made his appearance, and upon the interruption, glared at him. Dalton ignored him. 

"You are not sitting with your group today?" Spock asked offhandedly, fully aware that he was just searching for a subject that would take his mind off the grotesque images still parading through his mind. Although, he had to admit, he _was_ slightly curious. Usually at meal times, Dalton was coerced to sit with Jacques and his group because the older human apparently did not want him conversing with Spock more than what was necessary; which, if Jacques had had it his way, would be never. The fact that Dalton was sitting with him now was in itself, quite strange.

"They're not _my _group," the human retorted bitterly and began picking through his food, obviously searching for something edible to eat. Spock raised an eyebrow.

"You have been in their company a total of sixty-two times in the past eleven days, Mr. Corwin. I would have to disagree that you are not in some way affiliated with them," Spock argued as he chewed on something that resembled terran squash and meat loaf. Spock did not eat meat, in fact, he abhorred it. Consequently, as the diet on Doradus was fairly limited in nature, he had had no choice but to eat what was provided to him, lest he starve. Despite the fact that he had been eating the food for almost two weeks now…his stomach continued to have difficulty digesting the meat, and to his shame, he was often sick to his stomach because of it. T'Vara had taken to calling him, '_llaetus Yyaio!'_ whenever she witnessed becoming sick. Spock had promptly ignored her at every instance.

"Wow, are you stalking me or something?" Dalton sputtered as he craned his neck to stare at Spock who had raised both eyebrows now.

"I am not stalking you. I am merely stating a fact based on observation."

Dalton shot him a deadpanned look. "That's stalking."

"I disagree."

Dalton sighed heavily and shook his head. "Well, as I said, they're not my _group_, and I can sit wherever the hell I want too," he bit out, and took an exaggerated bite of his meal.

Spock spared a moment to glance at Jacques, and what seemed like the rest of the human population that existed on Doradus, which was not much. Unsurprisingly, the man was fixing Spock with a disdainful stare, and had probably been staring at him for the entirety of the time Spock had been sitting here.

"I would deduce that Mr. Jacques is quite unsatisfied with your presence at this table, his facial expression suggests that he is experiencing irritation, and perhaps anger towards me," Spock stated as he broke off the eye contact and peered back at Dalton, attempting to lighten his mood a bit. He remembered doing the same things for Jim when he was still on board the Enterprise. For some illogical reason, humans found unnecessary humor in the way he described other's emotions. Spock could not deduce why this was, only that this seemed to be the case more often than not. Dalton apparently, would not be finding any humor in his words today though.

"I don't give a fuck about his satisfaction Spock," the younger man seethed, his eyes narrowed and staring dead ahead of him. Spock could feel the fury radiating off of him, and errantly wondered if perhaps the human was angry at him.

"Have I done something to offend you, Mr. Corwin?" Spock queried, taken aback by the uncharacteristic hostility in Dalton's tone, not to mention the discomfort he felt due to the human's hostile emotions. He was obviously distressed about something, that much was apparent.

Dalton closed his eyes and sighed before answering.

"How many attacked you, Spock?" Dalton whispered, his eyes still closed, but to Spock he might as well have been shouting it out to the room at large.

"Clarify," he answered in a clipped tone, his posture becoming more rigid as he broke eye contact and stared down at his nearly full plate of food. He knew exactly what the human was asking him about though.

"Don't give me that bullshit Spock; I know about the Cardassians, hell, everyone knows about it!"

Instantly Spock froze. He was not prepared to be confronted about this now, especially when the event was still so fresh in his mind, and in his body. "This is not an appropriate subject for idle conversation in a venue such as this," Spock whispered firmly as he began to gather his tray, he would not be eating after all. Perhaps he would give his food to some unfortunate, starving being lingering out in the _Prison Pop _as he had just done two days ago. 

"Wait a minute Spock! Hey, wait!" Dalton called out to him after the Vulcan abruptly exited the table. Spock promptly ignored him as he left the hall, offered his meal to the first emaciated prisoner he happened upon, and continued towards the mining tunnels. If he arrived there early, he could perhaps avoid any unwanted confrontation. He would also be able to have first choice when it came to acquiring a radiation suit, which meant he could pick the most functional one.

"Spock! I said wait!" The human continued to cry out, bringing Spock firmly around to face him.

"What…what happened between me and the Cardassians…is not relevant to you, nor to anyone else here. I would appreciate it if you would silence yourself on the matter, and not speak of it again," Spock stated firmly, his tone icy. He expected Dalton to become angry, perhaps even emotionally vocal. He did not expect the expression of regret that washed over his face as he stood before him, his gaze averted to the floor. Convinced that the conversation was over, Spock saw no logical reason to linger, and resumed walking. He had only taken three steps when Dalton's voice, barely above a whisper, finally spoke.

"When I left last night…I was gonna come back, ya'know. Despite your stubborn belief that you didn't need help…I was gonna march right back into your cell and demand that you let me help you…You were sick, and…and I was worried about you…"

Spock turned back around and stared at him. There was a strange expression on his face, and Spock surmised it to be one of guilt.

"But, when I came back…" Dalton paused and took a deep breath, "when I came back, they were already there. I saw you in there. Saw them…_attacking you…_"

Spock averted his own gaze to the floor as the memories once again began to assault him. For some reason he was beginning to _feel_ very uncomfortable in Dalton's presence. Suddenly, Dalton peered back up at him, his eyes wide and intense.

"I was gonna help you Spock! I was already running over there to help you, but Jacques…he was there, looking for me, and…he forbid it. He wouldn't let me help you, said I would have gotten myself killed. I kicked and thrashed, but Baker and the guys were just too strong for me," Dalton confessed, sounding depressed. Spock found himself glancing up again.

"Mr. Jacques was correct; there was an eighty-five percent chance that you would have received fatal injuries had you attempted to aid me, and a ninety-eight point three percent chance that you would have sustained critical injuries had your death not occurred," Spock surmised quietly. Dalton smiled sheepishly at him, but it did not reach his eyes.

"Odds were that good huh?"

"I hardly think that an eight-five—," Spock started to rebut, but Dalton waved him down.

"—I wouldn't have cared what my chances were Spock…I would have done what I could've, regardless. That's the kind of person I am, this place doesn't change that," Dalton said softly, causing Spock to incline his head to regard him thoughtfully.

"Fascinating."

Dalton looked startled at the comment. "What is?"

"Your argument is very reminiscent of someone I kno—once _knew_ before I came here. I hypothesize that he would have said the same thing under these circumstances," Spock admitted, unable to keep the pang of sadness that the memory of Jim Kirk elicited from him out of his voice. It was amazing, the effect this place had on his human half.

"Should I take that as a compliment?" Dalton asked hesitantly.

"Most assuredly," he answered immediately, but he was still curious. "I still do not understand why you are irritated with me," he continued as he thought back to Dalton's standoffish attitude in the mess hall, the way he had slammed his tray down in apparent frustration. Was he perhaps _angry_ at Spock for sending him away last night? For being so short with him? Of course, he was not completely sure that the young man's anger was directed towards him at all, but there was still a fifty-five point two percent chance that it was.

Judging by the offended look now sweeping over Dalton's face, Spock knew he had miscalculated in his assumption, but he did not get a chance to correct himself.

"It's not you I'm irritated with. It's Jacques," he confessed as the two resumed walking through the corridors towards the tunnels. "He could've at least helped you…the guys he had with him outnumbered the Cardassians."

Spock wrinkled his upswept eyebrows. "I am not convinced that Mr. Jacques could have aided me against the Cardassians. Their strength is superior to that of a human being's." Spock had more trouble than he would like to admit, when speaking of them aloud. Dalton glanced at him evenly, his eyes narrowing.

"Oh he knew, Spock. While you were still in the mines working double-time, the Cardassians apparently had been flaunting around here, spreading the word that they were going to…to…_attack_ you." Dalton quickly looked at the floor, his cheeks going red with chagrin. Spock errantly wondered if his own cheeks were green right now. "I knew there had to be a reason why he was so insistent that I not be around you last night, he didn't want me in the middle of it, or so he said."

Spock pursed his lips and knitted his eyebrows further together in frustration at what he had just heard. If he had understood Dalton correctly, the human had known of his impending attack long before Spock had finished his shift in the mines. Yet, he did not inform him? Why?

"And you sought not to warn me?" He blurted out, an illogical feeling of hurt washing over him at the fact that the human, who he had started to consider a friend, would not have said something to him about it. Dalton snapped back up to face him with a shocked expression.

"If I'd known, I would have! Believe me Spock, I would've warned you! But I was in the _Limbo Room…" _he defended, his voice trailing off sadly at the mention of the universally hated room. Spock did not know how he had not noticed it before, but sure enough, Dalton's arms were mottled with needle marks from the various hyposprays Dr. Edison and his team had no doubt administered. Spock had marks on his arms which depicted the same thing.

"I didn't know until after I left you last night, and met up with Jacques and the rest of the guys, and by the time I came running back over to warn you…it had already started," Dalton paused and gave him a beseeching look, "I'm so fucking sorry Spock!"

"Your apology is unnecessary Mr. Corwin. It could not be helped," Spock attempted to reassure him as they came to stand outside the entrance to the Diridium mine. Judging by Dalton's still remorseful expression, his attempt had been unsuccessful.

"Yes, it could've been Spock. That's why I'm so fucking pissed off right now. Jacques had known all day what the Cardassians were planning on doing, and he didn't warn you. He could've warned you for fuck's sake!" Dalton yelled, exasperated. The volume of his voice had begun to draw the attention of a couple of inmates standing nearby.

Spock could not think of anything more to say on the matter. It was illogical, but he could not help but feel slightly irritated that the older human had _not_ sought to warn him, but then again…it was not his place to. Jacques and Spock were not friends after all. They were not even on amicable terms. The human gained nothing by warning Spock of an attack. He decided to say as much.

"It would not have been logical for Mr. Jacques to forewarn me about the attack, and risk being attacked himself for aiding me. We are not friends, we are not even acquaintances. There is nothing for him to gain by warning me," Spock stated as if it were a simple fact. Dalton smiled up at him, but again, the smile did not reach his eyes. In fact, it was quite hollow.

"Maybe not the _logical_ thing to do, but it would've been the _moral_ thing to do," Dalton retorted sourly.

Spock did not have an answer for that, so he settled on bidding farewell. The conversation had moved into uncomfortable territory. "This is where I must leave you Mr. Corwin, it is only logical that I arrive at the mine early so that I may have the option to choose the most functional radiation suit for my duties today," and with that, he began to make his way to the entrance. Surprisingly, Dalton was still following him. Spock turned to regard him curiously. "May I inquire as to why you are accompanying me?"

"Humans aren't _required_ to work in the Diridium mines, but we can if we want to. To tell you the truth, I'd rather be in there with you than out here in the _Prison Pop _with Jacques," the human explained, and while it was not logical to expose oneself to radiation anymore than necessary, Spock could not help but be comforted by the fact that Dalton would be in the mines with him.

((oOo))

Warden Brixton gazed suspiciously at the two Vulcans seated in front of him.

"And just _who _are these two again?" he asked Dr. Edison, who was handing the Vulcans both a cup of spiced tea. Brixton remembered hearing some bullshit about it being a favored drink of Vulcans, not that he gave a fuck.

The one seated on the left, who appeared to be the older of the two judging by the grey, almost white hair, took a minute sip from his mug before setting it back down softly and giving Brixton his full attention.

"My name is Delvok, and this is my assistant, Suvok. We are here under the request of Admiral Covington," Delvok stated impassively, causing Brixton to give Dr. Edison a confused glance.

"You wanna tell me what this is all about, doc? I was actually in the middle of something kind of important," Brixton said in a clipped tone. He didn't like being interrupted when he was having _fun_ with the female prisoners at Doradus, well…excluding the Klingons. Brixton repressed a shudder at the thought of getting it on with one of them. Aside from the Klingons though, it was amazing what some woman would do for extra privileges and credits. What could he say? Being a Warden did have its perks.

"They haven't told me yet Warden, we were waiting on you," Dr. Edison replied pointedly. Brixton repressed a sigh.

"Well let's get on with it!" he spat, not wanting to be in the same room with the Vulcans any longer than he had to be. They reminded him too much of that half-breed, Spock. Delvok gazed at him intensely before opening his mouth to speak.

"Admiral Covington has informed us that your penal colony is the very one that houses S'chnn T'gai Spock of Vulcan?" The Vulcan asked. Becoming more confused and alarmed by the second, Brixton abruptly turned back to the Dr. Edison.

"Uh, doc? Are these two _supposed_ to know about Spock? I thought that his whereabouts were a secret?" He asked in bewilderment, and immediately put himself on the defensive. Perhaps these two had come to break Spock out or something, and if that were the case…the doc and him were shit out of luck. Vulcans were a hell of a lot stronger than humans. A hell of a lot.

Dr. Edison laughed at his bewildered expression, which told him his assumption had been incorrect. "Calm yourself Warden. If it weren't for these two…we wouldn't even have a _Spock_ here in the first place. I trust you've seen the holovid of Anton Mitchell's murder?" Edison asked in amusement.

Of course he'd seen it. The damn thing had been brutal as fuck, and he'd actually had a fucking nightmare about it. His answer though, consisted of a simple nod. Edison didn't need to know how much it had disturbed him.

"Well, that entire thing is the handiwork of these two right here," Edison furthered as he indicated to the two Vulcans. Brixton gaped at him, and then gaped at the Vulcans. He'd wondered how they'd gotten Commander Spock, First Officer of the U.S.S. Enterprise, to do what he did in that holovid, to murder someone in cold blood like that. Never in a million years would he have guessed that it was actually a couple of fucking Vulcans behind it. Vulcans! A supposedly _non_ violent race!

"We are not affiliated with New Vulcan, or Starfleet, Mr. Brixton; we are independent of the colony, and do not follow the teachings of Surak. Spock being in attendance here is of little interest to us," Suvok explained apathetically, as if he could read Brixton's mind, hell, maybe the fucker could. The Warden couldn't hide his surprise, nor his amusement at the confession.

"Holy shit, rogue Vulcans? Well I've definitely seen it all now!" He sputtered before he could stop himself. What came as even more of a surprise was when Suvok actually smiled at him. To see a Vulcan smile was like watching someone slap a baby. It sure wiped the smirk off the Warden's face.

"Despite your crude terminology, you are correct."

Alright, it was time to get some damn answers…he'd been here too long already. "Okay, so why did the admiral send you? Surely it wasn't just so you could check up on the half-breed."

The two Vulcans glanced at one another before diverting back to the Warden. "It has been explained to us that Spock's telepathic bond with his father, Ambassador Sarek, is becoming somewhat of a troublesome matter back on Earth. The admiral fears that due to the strength of such a bond, Spock might be able to reveal his location to his father," Delvok explained, and Brixton put two and two together.

"And you think the Ambassador would come after him?" He surmised.

"What the Ambassador would, or would not do, we do not have enough data to ascertain. However, Admiral Covington is more hesitant as to what the Starship captain, James Kirk, would do if he were to become privy to this knowledge. Therefore, we have been asked to remove this bond, thereby removing the possibility of such a thing occurring," Delvok explained as he sipped his tea again.

"You can do that?" Brixton asked, truly curious.

"It will be difficult, especially given that Spock is strong in mind—of that I can already confirm—and the fact that this is a familial bond, therefore, harder to sever as it has been there since Spock's birth, but it can be done, I am adept at such things," he answered almost cryptically. Almost.

"And just what are you two getting out of it? If you don't work for Starfleet, then what exactly do you get in return for doing this? Obviously it's not easy judging by what you've just told me," Brixton questioned suspiciously. He didn't trust Vulcans…not one damn bit. Both Delvok and Suvok looked to Dr. Edison expectantly.

"We have been promised…_compensation," _They both finished in unison, which was just plain creepy.

"A fact which I have not forgotten gentlemen. I've already got the credits ready to be transferred to you after the deed is done—successfully that is," Dr. Edison answered cheerily. Both Vulcans nodded at him.

"Of course, Dr. Edison. As you are already aware, the last time we endeavored to manipulate Spock's mind, we were quite successful, and I have already adequately meditated prior to traveling here, if we may now proceed?"

"Certainly gentlemen, Warden? Bring the Vulcan, won't you?"

"I think he's in the mines, doc. We can't beam prisoners out of there," he explained, really not wanting to have to go down himself and get him, which was what the doctor would most likely expect.

Dr. Edison glared at him. "So go and fetch him for Christ's sake!"

((oOo))

Fortunately both Spock and Dalton had been able to secure a location in close proximity to one another since they had both arrived so early for their shift. Usually, when they mined for Dilithium, they were on different sides of the tunnel, and thus did not see each other until after the shift was over.

Spock's body still ached horribly from his attack the prior evening, and his work suffered for it. Twice already, Lokar and his group had toppled his cart over, creating more unnecessary work for him to do. Dalton however, wasted no time in helping the Vulcan pile it all back in, despite his protests that he needed no assistance.

"Hey you! Vulcan!" One of the guards shouted out to him from behind, causing him to turn around and see two of them making their way over, and to Spock's dismay, with Warden Brixton in tow. Spock glanced at Dalton who was looking at him uneasily.

"Drop what you're doing and come with me," Brixton ordered harshly as he came to stand in front of the group, his expression hard.

"I have not met my quota for the day," Spock argued, willing to say anything if it meant avoiding an audience with this man. Whatever the Warden wanted from him, Spock knew it would not be good. _He probably means to punish me for not being in attendance for the Roll Call last night, _Spock thought to himself.

"Are you fucking deaf? I said, come with me! Dr. Edison wants to see you!" He yelled as he darted forward, knocked the pickaxe from Spock's hands, and pulled him roughly forward by the shirt. Spock shared one last look with Dalton, who was gazing at him with apparent worry; a worry which Spock mirrored internally. Dealing with the Warden was bad enough, but Dr. Edison was doubly worse.

((oOo))

After removing his radiation suit, Brixton's eyes widened at his grotesque appearance, and he whistled dramatically before laughing. "Damn, someone really did a number on you!" he pointed out with amusement in response to the various bruises and cuts that littered Spock's face and arms. "In fact, I heard you became someone's bitch last night…is that true, _Commander?" _he smirked as he leaned in a little closer for added effect. Spock glared at him and felt his face heat up, but instead of his usual logical remark, the Vulcan remained silent. For the first time ever, he was afraid to reply, lest he be punished. His body would never heal if he kept getting punished, therefore, it was only logical not to say anything at all.

As soon as they were out of the mining tunnels, Brixton brought out his communicator and ordered for someone to beam them up. Barely two seconds later, Spock felt the familiar tugging on his body, and he was instantly transported to the _upstairs, _as Dalton had dubbed it, of the prison, and then marched into the _Limbo Room_ as was the routine he had already grown accustomed too.

What he did not expect however, was the two Vulcans who were standing inside the room next to a smiling Dr. Edison. Their hands were clasped firmly behind their backs, and their gazes penetrated him fiercely. He could not place the reason for it, but just _looking_ at these Vulcans sent illogical chills up his spine. He felt that he had known them from somewhere, only, he could not recall where. He could only recall that wherever he knew them from, it had not been a pleasant experience.

"What…is going on?" Spock asked before he could stop himself, and he instantly regretted it as Brixton's hand reached out and backhanded him hard in the face, angering the bruises which lingered there from Norkot.

"No one asked you to speak! Learn some goddamn manners!" he seethed as he retracted his hand. Spock kept his face stoic and looked again to the Vulcans, who were showing no signs that they had been offended by the Warden's aggressive act. For a moment when he had first walked in, his heart had fluttered with hope at the thought that maybe they had been sent by his father, that maybe they had been brought here to collect him, and his unsettling familiarity with them had been incorrect. However, Spock deduced that Dr. Edison would not be smiling, an expression indicating jubilance, if that were the case. Add to that the fact that Brixton would not have struck him in front of affiliates of his father.

"A little birdy told me that you've been trying to communicate with your father back on Earth? Now surely you wouldn't be doing a naughty thing like that would you?" Dr. Edison asked sweetly, yet with all the malice of a predator. Spock raised his eyebrows, and permitted a faint expression of shock to flicker over his face.

"I have not had any communication with Ambassador Sarek. You are mistaken," Spock answered in half-truth, ignoring the doctor's confusing colloquialism about terran birds, which bore no intelligent speaking capabilities to accomplish such a feat as what the doctor had suggested. While it was true that he had felt his father through their bond, he would not exactly call that communicating. It had been nothing more than the exchange of emotions and vague impressions. The doctor however, was not convinced.

"That's not what I've heard," he retorted. Finally the Vulcans who had remained silent up until now decided to enter into the conversation.

"The doctor is referring to your bond with Ambassador Sarek, Spock. Do not be evasive. We have been informed that you are utilizing the bond to communicate with him and his affiliates back on Earth," the older Vulcan explained, his expression remaining emotionless, yet his tone was unusually stern for a Vulcan. Spock however, could not keep the disdain out of his voice. Since these two were Vulcan, then surely they would be privy to the fact that bonds between parents could not just be severed without complications. In fact, Spock was not aware they could be severed at all…at least not willingly.

"I do not see how the bond I share with my father is relevant to you, or to anyone here for that matter," he replied stonily, half expecting the Warden to strike him again, but apparently he was content to watch the conversation play out.

"On the contrary, Spock. This communication, whether it has taken place or not, cannot be allowed to continue. We are here to remove it," the Vulcan replied impassively, though Spock could have sworn that a brief expression of excitement had passed over his face.

"Clarify," Spock added instantly, his voice cracking. For he was truthfully fearful of the answer, and if it meant what he assumed it did, then he had very good reason to be afraid.

"We mean to sever the bond, Spock. So that you will be unable to communicate with the Ambassador, which in turn means that you will be unable to communicate with Captain Kirk. The severing of such a bond will give your father the belief that you are deceased. Thus, it will not be logical for him to continue to pursue this endeavor to have you released from prison. Logically, this means that Captain Kirk will have to follow suit."

Spock's eyes widened in disbelief at this news and its' implications. The two Vulcans glanced at each other upon witnessing such an expression on his face.

"Once again Spock, you exhibit how expressive you can be as a direct consequence of your tainted blood. This was the case at our last meeting as well."

_Last meeting?_ Spock warily pondered, leading back to his earlier assumption that yes, he had met these Vulcans prior to this encounter.

"He no doubt would have done well amongst our group. It is a pity," the younger one continued dryly. Spock however, did not quite comprehend the last sentence, he was still preoccupied by what they had intended to do to him, and also, what they had done to him before, which was obviously substantial enough to cause him not to remember the ordeal at all. Despite those horrifying thoughts, the mere thought of having his bond with his father severed, of having the people that he cared so much about, of having his _T'hy'la,_ believe him to be dead, was too pressing, and to _painful,_ to simply ignore

"I…I do not understand. Surely the people of New Vulcan would not allow this," he argued fiercely. His father would definitely not have allowed it_._

The two Vulcans looked at each other and smiled. Spock was too shocked to react.

"We are not affiliated with New Vulcan. We have come to think of ourselves as…Independent Contractors. The teachings of Surak hold no weight over our philosophies," the older one explained. Of course, Spock had heard stories of Vulcans like these, the _Sasaud. _His own half brother, Sybok, who had he not seen in many years, did not follow the teachings of Surak either. Spock knew that these Vulcan existed, but they were rare and very few and far between.

"You must not understand the ramifications of what you are proposing. To sever a bond unwillingly is highly dangerous, and is considered immoral, and taboo. You must also know that the severing of familial bonds has never been attempted officially, and is thought of as impossible. Surely you are aware of this?" Spock tried desperately in an attempt to get these Vulcans to reconsider just what it was they intended to do.

"We understand. We do not care," they replied evenly, and in sync.

"I cannot allow this." Spock said shakily as he quickly pushed the Warden aside, which was not difficult at all, and attempted to escape. He was reacting purely on instinct. The instinct of self-preservation. The two Vulcans however, being full-blooded, were much faster and quicker than him, especially in his weakened state. They easily overpowered him in less than two point three seconds, and brought him to his knees with a kick to his shin, and a blow to his side just over his heart.

"Do not fight us Spock; it did not help you back before; it will not help you now," they stated plainly as they hauled him to his feet and yanked him over to the metal examination table, which he was then strapped down to. Spock however, was openly gaping at them now in bewilderment. Back on Earth? Suddenly it all made sense. It was so obvious now! Somehow, these two Vulcans had managed to manipulate him mentally into murdering Anton Mitchells. That was the only logical answer he could provide himself with. The existence of such a mind power was only rumored to exist on Vulcan in the pre-Surakian times, and even then it was still merely a legend as to whether it ever existed at all. There was no question about its existence now…for it had obviously been done.

By now the Warden was back on his feet from having been pushed down, his gaze menacing.

"Please, do not do this!" Spock pleaded in vain, completely aware of how emotional he most likely sounded, but he did not care. What was about to happen to him, it would be far worse than anything he had experienced last night. In fact, there was a ninety-eight percent chance that he would die in the process if the Vulcans were not skilled enough. Severing a familial bond had never been attempted before, Spock was not sure it was even possible. He did not want to find out.

_They were skilled enough to force me into murdering someone in cold blood, and you had thought that impossible as well, _he reminded himself…though it did nothing to quell his growing fear.

"It is not our decision to make. A deal has been made. We will follow through with it," the older one answered firmly as he positioned himself around the examination table so that he was standing directly above Spock's head. The younger Vulcan went to stand by his feet, obviously just here to observe and assist if need be.

"Is this going to cause him pain?" Brixton asked, making Spock regard him for a fleeting moment in surprise. Surely the Warden did not care about what kind of pain he experienced, he had not so far.

"A great deal, yes." the Vulcan answered simply, causing Brixton to smile.

"Good, I want that sonuvabitch to hurt," he said icily, confirming Spock's hypothesis that no, Brixton did not care. The Vulcan remained silent as he went to place his hands on Spock's meld points, the action feeling so familiar, as if he had done this to him before, which of course, he had. Spock gave him one last pleading look, but it was of no use…the Vulcan would not be bent. As soon as he muttered the ancient words, the half-Vulcan was sent spiraling into chaos.

_Spock felt as if he was traveling very quickly through a tunnel which became colder and darker the farther he went until suddenly, he found himself thrown harshly onto a hard surface. Quickly he made to stand up and assess his surroundings which surprisingly, were quite familiar. He was back in father's estate on Vulcan, before its destruction. The house held everything that he remembered of it down to the last piece of furniture. He even thought he could smell the vague scent of his mother's cooking. Suddenly thrilled at the aspect of seeing her, Spock hastily ran towards the kitchen, completely forgetting the prison he had just been in, but there was no one there. It was completely empty and devoid of life. __**Get yourself together Spock. This is not real. This is your mind**__, he thought to himself forcefully, but he could not help the growing sense of disorientation and disarray which continued to seep through him the longer he existed here. _

_Judging that he was in fact standing in his old estate, whatever the Vulcan was doing to him, it had brought him to the place in his mind that housed all of his family bonds—well, the one bond that still remained. Why was it then that he could smell the remnants of his dead mother? Should not all traces of her be completely gone? Burned out from his mind with the sudden removal of their bond? Perhaps it was due to the fact that he had never come to terms with it, or with the guilt he harbored surrounding her death. Perhaps because of this, remnants of her still lingered here in this place in his mind, seeking to remind him that she would still be here if he had just been quicker. _

_ "Go to your father," a voice commanded suddenly, causing an intense feeling of heaviness to descend upon Spock who immediately felt an unexplained urge to seek out the very person he had been ordered to find. __**No! Be strong Spock, that is what they want you to do! **__He tried to convince himself. This only angered the presence, and its' anger felt like a knife being embedded into his side. Sharp and agonizing. The disorientation grew exponentially…he was starting to lose his grip on logic. He was starting to forget why he needed to continue fighting this intrusion. _

_ "You will seek him out! Go to your father!" The voice commanded again, with so much force this time that Spock was almost knocked off his feet by it. _

"_I will not!" He yelled back, and was taken aback at the child-like quality his voice held. Intrigued, Spock looked down to his hands and realized that instead of belonging to an adult Vulcan male, they belonged to that of a child. Is this how he saw himself in this place? Or was it the Vulcan manipulating him as to make him feel more defenseless as a child might? Perhaps it was a mixture of both. Though, at this point in his life, it did not take being a child to feel defenseless. _

_ In an attempt to rid himself of the presence, Spock ran up the stairs to where his bedroom would be, and flung the door open. It looked exactly like it had when he was a young child. Everything was in its rightful place. Not knowing what else to do, Spock did what a child might do, and ran to the bed to hide himself underneath it. He knew it was illogical, the presence would surely find him here. He could feel it searching for him this very second; but for some reason, he felt safer underneath the shelter of his bed. _

_All thoughts and coherency of the reality he had just left were beginning to diminish as Spock lingered under the bed. It seemed like the longer he existed in this plane, the easier it was to forget his adult self. He was no longer aware of his life before in Starfleet, of Jim, of the Enterprise. Here…he was just the child known as Spock…scared and afraid. _

_ "It is of no consequence, I will call him for you," the voice boomed again, making Spock yelp in fright. Before he could even think about what that was supposed to mean, he felt a strange, pressuring sensation all over him, like someone was trying to compact him into a tinier size, yet expand him at the same time. He felt like he could not breathe. Instantly, random images and memories of his father assaulted his vision as the presence forced them to the surface, obviously doing everything in its power to awaken the bond between him and Sarek. _

_ The presence was successful, for barely a minute later, Spock heard the deep baritone voice of his father vibrating throughout the house. _

_ "Spock? Where are you Spock?" Sarek called from downstairs. Spock wanted to call out to him, but something told him not too, that if he did, something bad would happen. __**What was it**__? He should remember, but Spock could not. It had been something horrible though. _

_ "Spock! I am here! Where are you? Speak to me my son!" His father called out again, his voice sounding uncharacteristically anxious and fearful. _

_ "Please father, do not come up here. Leave this place," Spock whispered frantically to himself. But his wishes had been in vain, for barely a second later Sarek came parading through the door to his bedroom, his eyes scanning for Spock until they drifted under the bed where they immediately softened in relief. _

_ He looked momentarily startled as he took in Spock's appearance, but quickly recomposed himself as he rushed towards the bed,"Spock. I have answered your call; please tell me if you are alright?" He pleaded softly, which again, was very unlike his father. At the sound of his voice, which he had not been aware he had missed so much, Spock sprung out from under the bed and into his father's arms. He felt a need to touch the older Vulcan, to embrace him. He could not remember why he missed Sarek with such a fierce intensity, only that he did._

_Sarek remained motionless for a few seconds, clearly bewildered at his son's behavior, before returning the embrace. Sarek's skin felt unbelievably hot to the touch, and for the first time Spock realized how cold he felt…he was practically shivering, it was so cold here. His own breath could even be made out in fine detail as he exhaled from the icy chill. Vulcan was a desert planet…why then, was he freezing? _

_ Feeling the uncontrollable shaking he was exhibiting, Sarek broke apart the embrace and held his son by the shoulders, as if to examine him. "Spock. Your temperature is far too low, and your appearance—distressing. What is the matter? What is happening? Why have you called me here?" He probed, truly worried. Spock wished his mother were here, for she would be easier to admit these feelings too. In fact, where was she? He was at home, should she not also be here? _

_ "I am scared father," Spock whispered in a hushed voice. The words had barely left his mouth when the presence began to enclose and surround him with a vibrant heaviness. He felt as if something was trying to rip him away from Sarek, he felt like he was dying, or, this must be what dying felt like. _

_ "I am scared father!" He repeated more hastily."They are coming! I hear them! Do you not hear them!?" He shrieked as he let go of his father, clenched his eyes shut, and clasped his hands tightly to his small, pointed ears. An unbearable sound had begun to cascade throughout the room. It seemed like a thousand voices all at once were shouting incomprehensible things. He felt the presence growing stronger now…the pressure bearing down on him becoming so intense it was almost unbearable. Spock could never before remember a time when he had been so frightened, so utterly terrified, or in so much pain. Images, or perhaps memories he could neither recognize nor remember witnessing began to descend upon him. _

_ An errant image of a man slowly dying behind plated glass, his hand splayed apart in the Vulcan ta'al, was one of the images that drifted through, but it was gone before he could truly make sense of it. _

_ "Spock? Spock, speak to me! Tell me what is happening? Tell me who they are!?" _

_ "I think…I think I am dying…" Spock whispered as he felt the last bit of his strength and his willpower leave him. The presence was all around him now, and everywhere inside him. It was consuming him, and ripping him apart simultaneously. He felt his father's grip on his shoulders tighten fiercely before they were violently ripped away. Spock was aware of nothing but pain and agony. It was complete chaos. It felt like he was being burned alive. And then…he felt nothing._

((oOo))

"Jim, dammit! Give me a hand!" Bones yelled as he made to catch Ambassador Sarek mid-fall. Kirk, who had been so stunned at seeing the usually composed Ambassador suddenly grab his head, and cry out in pain before instantly collapsing onto the floor, had to shake his head in disbelief before rushing forward to help Bones ease the Vulcan down to the floor gently. Sarek was still unresponsive as he lay there, twitching and trembling.

"What the hell happened Bones?" Kirk asked worriedly, his eyes wide with shock. "One minute we were having a normal conversation, and then the next he's out cold! What the fuck happened?"

"I don't know Jim! Just because I was the doctor to one Vulcan, doesn't mean I'm some damn expert!" Bones said, exasperated as he pulled out his medical tricorder and began scanning Sarek furiously.

"Is it…" Kirk swallowed down a lump forming in his throat, "is it his heart?"

Fortunately Bones was shaking his head in the negative.

"I don't think so Jim, tricorder shows healthy readings as far as his heart goes. If I had to diagnose anything, it almost looks like he's had some sort of aneurism," Bones admitted, though he sounded like his own diagnosis didn't make much sense to him.

Quickly, his friend pulled out a hypospray and hastily plunged it into the Sarek's neck. He then started snapping his fingers in the older Vulcan's face in an attempt to bring him around. Kirk watched the scene before him with bated breath.

"Ambassador? Ambassador Sarek, can you hear me?" Bones attempted loudly. It took a few seconds, but eventually the Ambassador began to come to. At first, he looked a little disoriented, like he wasn't sure where he was, but Kirk watched in morbid fascination as the disarrayed look quickly turned into one of pure anguish. Kirk and Bones glanced uneasily at each other. They had never seen such a look of emotion on the Vulcan's face before, and instantly, Kirk felt something dark drop into the pit of his stomach.

"Ambassador, what happened? One minute you were fine, and the next…well…you just sort of passed out on us!" Kirk said anxiously, genuinely concerned. Sarek didn't answer him, and instead tried to sit up, but Bones wasn't having it.

"Now wait just a damn minute Ambassador, I want you to take it easy, just lay back for a minute."

"Was it…did you feel something from Spock?" Kirk surmised quietly. He had already halfway suspected it. Just yesterday the Ambassador had grabbed his head in pain the same way he had done with Kirk over the last ten days. Each time his explanation was that Spock was in distress about something, or in pain, and each time it seemed to be getting a little bit worse. Yesterday though, the Vulcan had damn near collapsed from whatever pain or distress Spock had felt, and Kirk had demanded to know exactly what it was.

"_I felt him call out to me, his pain was great," _he remembered Sarek revealing to him, making his blood run cold. "_But as I answered his call, he blocked me out most rapidly."_

Kirk knew the older Vulcan wouldn't admit it, but the fact that his son had refused whatever form of help his father had been willing to offer had deeply upset Sarek.

At the mention of Spock now, the Ambassador closed his eyes tightly, almost as if he was searching for something. Kirk and Bones knelt beside him, and patiently waited for him to finish whatever mind thing he was doing. After what felt like hours later, Sarek finally opened his eyes again with the same, agonizing expression that had been there before. Kirk felt his pulse quicken.

"Was it Spock, Ambassador? Did something happen to him?" Kirk tried again, growing impatient with the lack of response. Sarek glanced up at him, his expression now unreadable.

"I understood your query captain. I was merely…trying to confirm my conclusion," he stated far too quietly. This wasn't going to be good.

"We're all ears here Ambassador," Bones urged him, clearly just as curious as Kirk was.

"If my assumptions are correct, then…what I just experienced…what I have just seen in my mind…" The Vulcan actually took a deep breath as if to prepare himself. _What the fuck happened? _Kirk thought as he started to panic. Spock was obviously hurt, and it was worse than yesterday…way worse to be causing this kind of reaction out of the normally stoic Vulcan, who absolutely _never_ hesitated to speak his mind. What came out of the Ambassador's mouth next no one was prepared for. Especially Kirk.

"I believe…I just witnessed my son's death. I…I do not feel him in my mind anymore. The bond is gone, just as Amanda's is gone," he added calmly, but there was an edge of desolation to that calm. The Vulcan was obviously intensely upset, and perhaps going into shock, if that were even possible. Kirk however, had felt his heart stop.

"What…what the hell are you talking about? Witnessed Spock dying? What the hell does that even mean!" Kirk bellowed, quickly starting to lose control of his emotions. _It couldn't be true, the Ambassador had to be mistaken…Please God it couldn't be true! _

"I felt him call to me. I went to him through the bond. He was…terrified of something, he informed me that something was killing him. That he was dying," Sarek replied in a tone mixed between utter surprise and disbelief. Kirk however was suddenly furious.

"That's a lie! Spock isn't dead! You can't know that! He's there and you're here! How can you know that?" Kirk screamed as he grabbed the man by the front of his Vulcan robes. Sarek made no move to defend himself, apparently long lost in his own inner battle of turmoil. Kirk knew it wasn't Sarek's fault, but it was easier to feel anger, and deny what he'd just heard, than accept it and deal with pain that would inevitably follow. It was Bones who was prying Jim's fingers off the Ambassador.

"He's NOT dead! Tell me right now! He's not fucking dead!" Kirk continued to scream as the tears began falling freely down his cheeks. Sarek looked him straight in the eyes, and Kirk saw his own pain mirrored there.

"I felt his death Kirk. I felt the bond slip away…the only way to sever a familial bond is by way of death…he is…my son is dead." Sarek affirmed in a broken voice.

It felt like the bottom of the floor had dropped out, and that the room had become a vacuum, sucking everything in, and choking him until he couldn't breathe. _Spock was dead. I have failed. I have failed him…_

"Jim…breathe," a concerned voice sounded from beside him as it attempted to grasp him by the shoulders, but he flinched away from the touch. Judging by the way his vision was starting to become hazy, and lightheadedness he was beginning to experience—he had obviously stopped breathing.

"Jim…you've got to breathe." The voice coaxed again, albeit with more force this time. _How? How can I breathe in a world where Spock no longer does? _He cried out inwardly as he let go of the Ambassador and braced himself on the floor to keep from totally collapsing. Suddenly, he couldn't be here any longer. He had to get away; he had to escape this vacuum.

Kirk didn't remember getting to his feet, and he didn't remember shoving Bones harshly out of the way so that he could get the hell out of that apartment that had become a nightmare. He didn't remember running out into the freezing rain which would be successful in masking the tears which freely fell from his eyes. He wouldn't remember because there was only one thing shouting, no, _screaming _inside his mind. Spock, the only person he'd ever truly given his heart to, the _one_ person who was depending on him to get him out of this mess, was dead, and there was nothing he could do about it. 

**A.N Yyaio: Derogatory term for Vulcan**

**llaetus: sick, sickly**

**So the Star Trek Universe is pretty vague on Vulcan bonds and the exact nature of them...So I kind of went with that. Marriage bonds (excluding the **_**T'hy'la**_** bond of course :) ) can be broken, but I don't think it would work the same with familial bonds. I mean, a Vulcan child has had their parents in their minds since birth...to me, this would be very difficult if not impossible to forcibly remove...almost akin to removing an appendage since it's parent/child. I don't know if this is actually true, and I don't claim to say that it is either...this is just how i've written it for this story. **

**I hope everyone enjoyed this! And once again...I'm really sorry for the cliffie. **


	13. Both Sides Are Even

**A.N. To my betas…you ladies rock! A thousand thankyous! I wanted to get this chapter out before mother's day (happy mother's day!) Enjoy!**

Chapter 13:

Both Sides Are Even

Kirk had been roaming the San Francisco streets for almost two hours now in utter disbelief after his abrupt departure from the apartment. The never-ending chorus of _SpockisdeadSpockisdeadSpockisdead _kept assaulting his mind over and over and over again, and no matter what, he couldn't get it out of his head. Tears pooled steadily down his cold cheeks as he continued to stumble and wander aimlessly through the streets, uncaring of the stares and whispers he was attracting.

How could Spock, the one person who seemed almost invincible in the face of danger, be dead just like that? There had to be a mistake. Sarek had to have miscalculated. Misinterpreted. Spock just couldn't be dead. Just thinking about it seemed obscene and outrageous.

Just thinking about it is like an electric shock straight through the heart.

But Sarek had sounded so sure, so convinced.

_The only way to sever a familial bond, is by way of death…_

_Death._

_Spock is dead. _

When he felt like his feet might give out from the sheer weight of his turmoil, Kirk found himself groping along the wall of a building, what building he had no idea, nor did he care, all he knew was that eventually he slid down the length of it until he could hug his knees up against his heaving chest. The rain was pouring so heavily now that he could barely make out the sidewalk across the street. Brutal winds gusted around him and sent the cold rain in all manner of direction. _How perfect_, Kirk thought, that the weather should mimic his mood so accurately.

"Sir? Sir, are you okay? Do you need me to get someone?" He vaguely heard someone ask him through the sounds of his vibrant sobbing. _God I haven't cried like this since Tarsus IV, _he thought randomly as he continued to ignore whoever was questioning him. Couldn't they see he just wanted to be left alone? Fuck!

"That ain't necessary," a familiar drawl sounded from somewhere above him. Kirk hugged himself tighter as he dipped his head further between his knees. He didn't want to talk to Bones right now. He didn't want to talk to anyone.

"Is he okay?" The other voice tried again. He could hear Bones sigh.

"Look. I'm his doctor. I'll handle this," Bones said with a hint of finality.

He heard an irritated sigh that didn't belong to Bones, followed by sounds of someone walking away. He then felt someone place a hand gently on his knee.

"Jim…" Bones attempted as his hand lingered there, squeezing the knee-bone ever so slightly.

Kirk refused to look up though. He didn't want anyone to see him crying uncontrollably like this.

Bones decided to try again. "Jim."

"Just leave me the fuck alone Bones!" Kirk snapped and jerked his knee away so that Bones' hand would be forced off. He then tried to shrink farther into himself. Maybe if he tried hard enough, he could disappear. Spock would tell him that such an attempt was illogical, as it was physically impossible for him to accomplish such a feat. Just hearing his own thoughts play out in Spock's smooth cadence caused Kirk to illicit yet another choked sob. Spock would never tell him anything again. He would never tell anyone, anything again…

The feeling of a warm body situating itself next to him on the wet ground told him that Bones had decided to take a seat. Kirk let him, but didn't look up to acknowledge the act. It was a few moments before the doctor spoke.

"I'm not gonna pretend like I know what you're going through, because I don't. I don't know what it's like to fall in love with someone, and have them ripped away from you. I can't tell you that it'll get better with time, or that he's in a better place, because, well, quite frankly I don't know whether any of that's true."

_Where the fuck is he going with this? If this is supposed to be a pep talk, it's a really bad one. _

"I can only be here for you Jim, like I've always been, and help pull you through, hopefully, in one piece. If sitting here in the goddamned rain is what you want to do, if it's the only way you feel you can get through this, then I'll do it with you. I'm not going anywhere."

Kirk finally peered up at him, the man's face blurred and distorted from the moisture in his eyes.

"It fucking hurts Bones. It hurts so much!" he cried as a violent sob escaped him. He felt himself beginning to crumble again. Warm arms suddenly enveloped him, and he was aware that Bones had put his arms around him to draw him close, to offer him the only support he knew he could give at that moment, a shoulder to cry on.

"I know Jim. I know," Bones crooned softly into his ear while Kirk continued to cry into the crook of his friend's neck. He didn't care about the sight he must have looked to the people passing by. A grown man, carrying on this way; he simply didn't care. It was hard to care about something when the thing you cared about most in the world simply wasn't there anymore.

((oOo))

It was almost two weeks later, and Kirk still hadn't seen the Ambassador. He had tried to contact him numerous times, but had yet to get a response. At first he was afraid that man might have suffered another heart attack. Bones however, who had been the only one Sarek had permitted to see him due to his medical condition, confirmed that his heart was still healthy, he just wished to remain in solitude for the time being. Kirk could understand that. He remembered the look of agony on Sarek's face after he'd come out of…of the trance he'd been in when Spock had died. His son's death had obviously done a number on him, just like it had done a number on Kirk, and continued to do so.

Of course he hadn't really seen a lot of people save for a few choice members of his crew, who had finally gotten word of what had happened to Spock from his arrest, right up to his death which had spread through Starfleet and around the world like wildfire. Uhura of course had been utterly devastated by the news. She, like Sarek, had refused to speak to anyone, and had barricaded herself in her Starfleet-issued apartment. Kirk understood, of course. It was all he'd wanted to do since he'd found out; hole up somewhere and die. That's what he wanted to do. But Uhura didn't have a Bones up her ass like he did. And it refused to let him wallow in self-pity.

It seemed like everywhere Kirk went he was haunted with holopictures or holovids of his former First Officer. Despite the media's continued drilling and pressing for more information, Starfleet would not provide any details on how he died, much to Kirk's frustration. From what the admiralty had informed him of back at Headquarters, they wouldn't even send his body back to Earth, so that Ambassador Sarek could take him back to New Vulcan for a proper burial. Something about an excuse that the prison Spock was sent to not _having the means_ for such things. Bullshit. That's what that smelled like to Kirk. A big, steaming pile of fucking bullshit.

Finishing up the shower he'd finally forced himself to take, Kirk toweled his hair dry and moped back into his room to don a fresh pair of clothes. Once he'd done that, he settled himself in front of his computer terminal to look at his messages, which were steadily piling up. No surprise there.

Amidst the shit-ton waiting in his inbox, there was one that stood out to him; a message from Admiral Komack entitled: _First Officer Applicants: U.S.S. Enterprise. _

Kirk instantly felt his face heat up. Why the hell was he getting this? He'd tendered his resignation a week ago! So why was Komack even bothering to send him this when he should be sending it to…to whoever was the fucking Captain now! With hesitancy, Kirk opened the message.

_Captain Kirk. I have received your letter of resignation, and I have to say that I'm disappointed in you, and you must realize that your crew will no doubt be disappointed as well. Therefore, I'm going to ask that you wait at least another week before coming to any rash decisions. If, at that time, I receive another resignation letter from you, I will accept it, no questions asked. Just think about it._

_Admiral James Komack,_

The chime from his door brought his attention off the screen in front of him.

"Who is it?" he yelled over his shoulder irately, still fuming over the nerve of the admiral.

"Santa Claus!" came the southern drawl through the door. Kirk rolled his eyes.

"Come in, Bones," he invited lazily as he toggled the screen off, and rose up from his chair to greet his friend who was now coming through the door, bags of takeout in his hands.

"Figured you wouldn't feed yourself, so I took the liberty of grabbing you Chinese," Bones said as he came inside and headed to the kitchen to place the steaming bags down.

"I'm perfectly capable of feeding myself, Bones," Kirk clarified as he followed him begrudgingly into the kitchen. It was true, he was capable, he just hadn't had an appetite since, well since the bottom dropped out from under him. Bones ignored him as he went over to the replicator and punched in a series of numbers to bring up the food log, obviously confirming Kirk's story.

"Uh-huh, that's why nothing's been replicated for the past," Bones paused to check the log on the replicator, "oh, forty-eight hours? Because you're _oh-so_ capable?" he spat as he turned and glared at Kirk, who in turn rolled his eyes again.

"Look _mom, _I'm not hungry. I don't eat when I'm not hungry."

"I don't give a flying fuck in Klingon space Jim if _you're not hungry, _because while I'm your CMO, you're gonna stuff that fucking face, or I'll stuff it for you!" Bones yelled as he brashly took out the boxes of takeout from the assorted bags and banged them down on the counter, his blazing eyes never leaving Kirk's. Now he figured, was as good a time as ever to come clean about what he'd been dreading to confess for a week now.

"Technically Bones, I don't have to listen to you. You're not my CMO anymore, I resigned a week ago."

Bones' eyebrows skyrocketed.

"W-What?!" he sputtered as he dropped the box of brown rice in his hand onto the floor. Little brown pellets went everywhere; neither of them cared.

"You heard me. I'm not your Captain anymore," Kirk replied nonchalantly. He watched in morbid fascination as Bones' face got redder by the second with frustration.

"And…and just when the hell were you gonna tell me this Jim? In fact, when were you gonna let your ship know?! The Enterprise is scheduled to leave in two weeks!" On any other day, Kirk might have flinched under the harsh tone of the other man, but nowadays, he seemed to be numb to almost everything.

"It wasn't anyone's business."

"To hell with that! You make a decision like that, you include me! Dammit Jim!" Bones continued to rave, the food on the counter long forgotten. Kirk had been numb before, but now he was getting pissed.

"And what did you expect Bones? Just what the fuck did you expect me to do? Keep on captaining the goddamn Enterprise like nothing ever happened? Like Starfleet didn't throw Spock to the fucking wolves the first chance they got? You seriously _think_ I can go on being their—their fucking Golden Captain? You've lost your goddamn mind if that's what you think I'm going to do!" Kirk bellowed and picked up the first breakable object he could lay his hands to hurl it across the room. The sound it made as it shattered was a weak reflection of the anger and pain thundering within him, but at least it brought him some small measure of satisfaction.

Bones flinched as the glass shards splayed all over the floor, some of it mixing with the rice, but it didn't stop him from opening his mouth again to give Kirk his two cents.

"Of course not Jim! You're mad at Starfleet? I'm fucking mad too! Hell, the entire Enterprise is pissed off at this whole situation!"

"Then what's the problem? Why can't you accept that this is what I want to do! Why can't you see that I can't go on serving in a fleet that betrayed my best friend?"

"Because the fleet didn't betray Spock!" Bones yelled harshly. Kirk was struck speechless, his eyes wide with shock. He couldn't believe Bones just said that. Had he been under a rock the past month?

Kirk's eyes narrowed in fury as he glared at Bones. "…Get out," he growled as he pointed towards the door, but Bones was going nowhere.

"Jim, that didn't come out right. Let me expla…"

"Get the FUCK out!" Kirk yelled at the top of his lungs as he stalked closer to the man who was supposed to be his friend. Bones however, just straightened up defiantly in way that just screamed for Jim to hit him.

"Are you gonna hit me Jim? Because if you are, I wish you fucking would, then maybe we'd both feel better," Bones spat back at him as he stood his ground, clearly not going anywhere. For a second, Kirk really did think he might hit his friend. The idea was certainly appealing right at this moment, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. So much hurt had already been dealt; he didn't want to add to it. Feeling that it might be safe to continue, Bones took a deep breath and stared at Kirk evenly.

"What I meant was…yes, there is definitely some corruption in Starfleet, Jim," Bones paused and glanced at an imaginary focal point on the wall past Kirk's shoulder. "We pretty much confirmed that for ourselves back when Marcus was running the show. And I'm not denying that someone in Starfleet, probably more than one person, set Spock up," he looked back to Kirk, eyes wide and exasperated, "I'm not denying that!"

"Then what are you trying to say Bones! Come out with it!" Kirk admonished him as a nasty headache suddenly emerged on the right side of his temple.

"I'm _saying _that just because there are a few bad apples, that doesn't mean you eighty-six the entire batch!" He finished in all seriousness. _Great, Bones and his fucking metaphors. Is this what Spock felt like when the humans around him spoke like this?_ Immediately Kirk shut the thought out of his mind. It was too painful to think about Spock's opinion on anything.

"_What—_is that supposed to mean Bones," he asked as he clenched his eyes shut against the memory of Spock, which was like salt being poured on an open wound.

"It means that there are still good people in Starfleet, Jim. People that want to see it live up to the ideals that it was founded upon. People like you and me. People like Spock and Admiral Pike…"

Kirk's eyes hardened.

"And in case you haven't noticed, both of those men are dead now!" Kirk cut him off brusquely, but Bones continued on as if he hadn't interrupted.

"People like Uhura, like Sulu, like Scotty, like Chekov, like Carol; like the entire fucking crew of your ship Jim!"

Kirk's gaze faltered underneath his words, which were starting to make some small sort of sense now.

"All of those people are a part of the same Fleet you're ready to burn at the stake, and they're good people Jim! Hell, every one of them would die for those ideals that you seem to think don't exist anymore, and I don't know about you, but as long as someone out there is willing to give their life for something they believe in, then that's good enough for me to keep on fightin' the good fight." Bones finished, his voice considerably softer now as he gazed at Kirk with imploring eyes.

Kirk broke off the gaze as the tears threatened to break free from him again. He grabbed onto the edge of the counter for support.

"Come on Jim. Let it out. What are you afraid of? Tell me," Bones encouraged him softly.

Kirk glanced up at him as the tears began to pool in his eyes. _Dammit, I thought I was done crying! _Suddenly he wanted Bones to know. Needed him to.

"I just feel…" he sniffed, and wiped his nose with his sleeve before he continued, "like I would be betraying him…" Kirk looked imploringly into his friend's eyes, and whispered, "you know?" he finally managed as he wiped at his eyes.

Bones nodded in understanding. "I get that you feel that, by staying in Starfleet, you're no better than the sorry sons-of-bitches who put him in the ground," Bones pointed out, causing Kirk to flinch at his reference to Spock being six feet under. It wasn't an image he wanted in his head right now. "I get that Jim, I really do because I ask myself every morning why I even continue to keep doing this dog-and-pony show. Every damn day, I ask myself this!" Exasperated, Bones ran a hand through his hair.

"How," Kirk sighed, then asked in barely above a whisper, "how do you get through it? How do you convince yourself that it'll be worth it in the end?"

"I tell myself that as long as there's people like me signed up, then Starfleet has a chance to remain the peace-keeping organization it was founded upon. As long as people like you," Bones made sure he held Kirk's gaze as he spoke, "people like your crew," he took a deep breath and shut his eyes briefly, "like Spock," as Kirk tried to look away, Bones stepped forward and grabbed his face softly, as if to remind him where to look. "As long as people like them remain, then hope will always be there, and it will always be worth it."

Kirk didn't say anything as he turned away from Bones and regarded his friend's words. He was so hell bent on hating Starfleet for what they'd done, that he hadn't figured out the truth in the doctor's words for himself. He was right. As long as Kirk stayed fighting, and people like him did as well, then Starfleet had a chance to redeem itself, to get back to what it once was. And what better way to do that than from the bridge of the Enterprise?

When he turned back and caught Bones' eye, he allowed himself a small smile. "Alright Bones, you've convinced me." A look of relief flashed through the doctor's eyes before he settled them again on the forgotten food on the counter.

"Good. I'm glad. Now that you've successfully gotten me to pour my soul out in the corniest way possible, can we please eat for Christ's sake, before the food gets too cold?"

Kirk smirked at him as he went to clean up the broken glass on the floor while Bones cleaned up the fallen rice, and discarded it into the waste machine. For the first time in two weeks, Kirk found he actually had an appetite now. _It's a good thing I guess, that Komack didn't accept my resignation after all._

((oOo))

A few days later found Kirk, Bones, Uhura, and Scotty all on the couch in Kirk's apartment drinking heavily. Kirk didn't usually drink so much—that was usually Bones' and Scotty's department, but he found that it lessened the hole that had seemed to take root in the middle of his chest. The hole where Spock had once been.

Usually when groups of four or more got together to get shit-faced, the mood was slightly more jubilant. Tonight however, no one was very jubilant. It was pretty fucking depressing actually.

"So," Scotty started awkwardly, obviously standing about enough of the lengthy silence as he could, "the silver lady has got hydro-powered showers now…" he finished as he stared into his drink.

Kirk muttered something unintelligible and rolled his eyes. He really didn't care.

"Sounds like Komack's trying to suck ass to me…" Bones grumbled with a scowl. No one said anything, but Kirk knew they all agreed.

The chime at his door brought him from his despondent thoughts. He looked around at his four friends. "Any of you," he waved his hands around, "expecting anyone?" he asked warily. When they all shook their heads in the negative, Kirk felt a trickle of nervousness course through him, and he immediately pulled out the phaser that had been lodged behind his shirt, in his jeans. He carried it everywhere now.

"Jesus Jim! Why are you carrying that thing around off duty? And in the back of blue jeans no less!" Bones gasped in a hushed tone so whoever was at the door wouldn't hear him. Kirk stared wide-eyed at him.

"With everything that's happened Bones? I can't believe you're _not_ carrying one!" he gasped right back as he inched his way to the door, completely sober now with the possibility of an attack looming in his brain. The chime went off again, only this time it was followed by a familiar voice.

"Captain Kirk? It is I, Sarek. I would speak with you," Sarek called from the other side. Kirk let out a heavy breath that he hadn't been aware he was holding, and quickly holstered his phaser to open the door. Sure enough, there standing stoically in the hallway, was the Ambassador. Though he looked like shit. There were dark, green circles underneath his eyes from what Kirk assumed was stress, and lack of sleep, and whereas before his expression had remained impassive at all times, it now held a dark, agonizing quality. It was definitely a sight to behold, coming from the older Vulcan.

"Ambassador, please come in," he invited the older Vulcan as he hastily stepped aside.

"Thank you captain. I will not take up very much of your time, I just wanted to inform you that…" the Vulcan's voice trailed off as he acknowledged the rather large audience in the room. Kirk couldn't help but feel slightly awkward as he ran a hand through his hair nervously.

"I see I have interrupted something. I will come back at a more convenient time," he said hastily, but Uhura had already gotten up off the couch to come over to him.

"No, please stay Ambassador."

Sarek inclined his head to her. "Very well, Miss Uhura." There was a moment of awkward silence before Kirk gathered his bearings again.

"I'm sorry, you haven't met my Chief Engineer, Mr. Scott. Scotty? This is Ambassador Sarek." Kirk introduced the two as Scotty hastily tried to hide his very illegal Romulan Ale, while trying to appear polite and genuine at the same time.

"Aye! It's good 'ta finally meet ya sir, and, I'm mighty sorry for yer loss," The Scotsman introduced himself hesitantly while having the good sense not to offer his hand. Before Sarek could respond, Uhura's voice sounded.

"I grieve with thee," she said, her voice laden with sadness. The Ambassador, who had been looking at Scotty, turned his gaze to Uhura whereupon he closed his eyes and nodded at her, silently acknowledging her words, which seemed to have quite the impact on him. Kirk made a mental note to ask her about it later.

"I will not take up much of your time Captain Kirk. I merely wished to seek an audience with you in order to extend my gratitude in regards to your assistance involving my son before I made my departure," he said, causing Kirk's eyes to widen in surprise.

Of all the possible things that Sarek could've said, Kirk had _not_ been expecting that.

"Departure? What are you talking about?" He blurted out.

Scotty, having not really been around the Ambassador before, was shifting his feet uncomfortably. The last time he'd been on the tail end of meeting a Vulcan, said Vulcan had decided to throttle his Captain.

"I am taking the next shuttle back to New Vulcan. I have resigned my commission as Ambassador to Earth, and therefore have no further business here," he answered as plain as day. Kirk's mouth hung open in shock as he fought to find his words.

It was Uhura who beat him to it. "Resigned? Ambas, Sarek, pardon me, but why would you do that?" she asked him, clearly just as shocked as Kirk.

"The way that Starfleet has handled the death of my son is disagreeable to me. They have refused to return his body to me, so that he may be buried properly on New Vulcan, and what is more, the circumstances surrounding his incarceration, his trial, and now his death do not logically add up, yet Starfleet has refused to cooperate with me, as well as you captain," and here he looked pointedly at Kirk, "in regard to these grievances. I find myself unable to perform adequately as Ambassador to Earth at this time. In light of these facts, it is…logical that I resign." He confessed with a hint of regret in his usually stoic tone.

A few days ago, he wouldn't have blamed the Vulcan in the slightest, because a few days ago, he'd been ready give Starfleet the finger as well, but Bones had put things into perspective for him. He had an excuse for his stubbornness though, he was human, and humans were known to make emotionally charged, rash decisions, which, upon further reflection, proved to be quite shitty in the long run. Vulcans however, weren't they supposed to be able to look past all the colorful bullshit? Shouldn't things already _be_ in perspective?

"I can't believe it. You're actually running away?" Kirk questioned loudly, anger present in his voice.

Sarek raised his eyebrows. "I am not _running away,_ Captain Kirk. I am merely stepping down as Ambassador."

"No, you're running away! You told me you would help me find out who did this to Spock!" Kirk yelled.

"That was before his death, Captain."

"Just because he fucking died, doesn't mean we just let whoever did this get away with it! Surely you understand that!"

"To further pursue this endeavor is illogical captain. While I do _wish _to apprehend the individuals responsible, I cannot do so knowing that it would further endanger you, or anyone else affiliated with my son," and here Sarek paused to look at everyone in the room with sincerity before coming back to Kirk.

"You are about to embark on the Enterprise's five-year mission in nine days, are you not?" Sarek asked him.

Kirk shuffled his feet. "Well, yeah, I am, _we_ are, but that doesn't mean I still don't want to keep investi…" he attempted before he was cut off.

"You are a Captain of a Starship, Kirk. Your duties as such will not permit you the time to further investigate this."

Kirk gaped at him. "I'll _make_ time Ambassador. Sure, it'll be harder in space, but I'm not about to let this go!"

"To _make _time is illogical, for if you have the luxury to do such a thing, then you obviously are not performing adequately as a captain. Your duty must be to the ship."

"My _DUTY _is to your son!" Kirk shouted before he could stop himself. A very awkward silence overcame the room, causing him to blush slightly. He hadn't meant to say that out loud, but he couldn't help himself. Sarek was really getting under his skin. To think, to even _insist, _that he would just let Starfleet sweep Spock's death under the rug like it was nothing? Not in a million years.

Sarek regarded Kirk with an unreadable expression for at least a full minute before he replied.

"…I see," Sarek finally said, which paved the way for yet another awkward silence. God, his life was full of them lately.

_ "_Well, at least I finally found out where Spock got his argumentative streak from," Bones chimed in, obviously attempting to lighten the mood. His attempt failed miserably as everyone just ignored him.

"I thank you again for your assistance thus far Captain Kirk, and you have my wishes for safe travels aboard the Enterprise. Live long and prosper," and with that, Sarek's hand parted in the Vulcan salute, and he exited the room as fluidly as he'd entered it.

"Where were you back there Bones? Could've used that glorious—_save the fleet one soul at a time—_speech you gave me back in my kitchen a few days ago," Kirk said sourly as he continued to stare at the now-closed door, hoping that the Sarek would come back through and say that he was just kidding. Of course, hell would freeze over before that happened.

"Something tells me that the former Ambassador wouldn't have received it as well as you did," Bones replied dryly as he came to stand beside his friend, and also stare at the closed door.

**A.N. So? What did ya'll think? I'm really trying to weed out all my punctuation faults! Also, this chapter is named after the song, Both Sides Are Even, by the boxer rebellion. **


	14. Endure

**A.N. My beta's were freaking awesome for this chapter! which made this really fast update possible! I know it's only been two days since chapter 13, but I really wanted to give ya'll something for mother's day. Plus, I wanted ya'll to at least start the week knowing how Spock is doing! **

Chapter 14:

Endure

After the bond tying him to his father had been forcibly removed from his mind, Spock, who could not even muster the strength to remove himself from the examination table after the ordeal, was taken and beamed straight back to the _Prison Pop_. The Warden might have assaulted him with his baton in between that time, but he could not be certain. His memory of the events right after Delvok had essentially raped his mind had come and gone fleetingly. Spock would compare it to the very human dreams he sometimes had since he had arrived here.

Dalton had been the one to find him when he was returned, barely coherent. He had only taken one step forward before collapsing into a heap on the floor, his nose bleeding severely from either Warden Brixton's attack, or the mind meld with Delvok. It was more than likely a mixture of both. He vaguely remembered Dalton being there with him afterwards to, trying to converse with him, attempting to get him to say just _one_ word. Spock however, just continued to ignore everything around him. The forced mind-meld had left him weak, and in a severe amount of pain. It hurt to think. It hurt to talk. And most of all, it hurt to be touched, as his mental shields were completely gone. They had been torn to pieces in the assault, and every emotion he felt from Dalton hit him tenfold. The first time Dalton had touched him in an attempt to assist him off the floor, Spock had flinched away from him in pain.

The place in his mind where his father had once been had become a festering, pus-ridden hole; and inside it, something comparable to the singularity that had destroyed Vulcan had taken root there. Every time he mentally probed at the hole, he was met with a fiery, electric pain. Spock knew that touching the area where the bond had been would only cause him unnecessary pain, but he could not help himself. It was like his brain would not accept what had been done to him. For his entire life, the bond had been there. True, it had been somewhat muted over the years due to the estrangement between Sarek and himself, but it had always been there; a constant in his life. If he wished to touch the bond, he always had that option. Now, he did not. He was completely alone in his head.

Completely alone.

It had not been like this when his mother had died. Yes, there was pain and discomfort when she had fallen to her death on the Vulcan that once was. Spock could remember that pain, clear as ever to this day. It was a pain that, while dulled somewhat, had haunted him constantly. That however, was so much different than this. The stipulations surrounding his mother's death had been horrific, yes, but her death had been real, natural. And not only that, but his father had been there, his bond helping Spock to buffer that pain. To deal with it. What had been done to him in the _Limbo Room? _There was nothing natural about it. His mind felt like it was bleeding out, and he wondered if he would ever recover from it. Never before had he felt so utterly helpless and alone. Never before did he think that this would possibly ever occur.

His work in the mines suffered greatly as a result of the severance. He just did not have the energy to do any of his duties efficiently. Yet, the promise that he would be beaten if he did not work his shift kept him going. He also knew he needed the credits acquired from mining to ensure a steady source of sustenance, lest he starve. However, as he had no appetite anyway over the passing days, he found he just did not care anymore if he starved. Let him starve. At least then, he would not feel this sharp pain throbbing and aching within his mind day after day.

Despite his avoidance of the world at large, Dalton remained as stubborn as ever in trying to get through to him. Day after day, the human would bring him food, which he had snuck out of the mess hall and brought all the way back to the Vulcan's cell. Each day he visited, the human would try again to converse with him, to break him out of the cage he had locked himself inside. His efforts had all been pointless though. Spock simply ignored him, all the while staring straight ahead at the wall until he was forced to make his way to the tunnels. It was safe staring at the wall, which could not beat him, could not taunt him, could not rape him mentally or physically, and was not capable of bombarding him with emotion that at the moment he was defenseless against.

It did not come as a surprise that now, two weeks later, the young man was in his cell again, shoving a small handful of food into his lifeless hand along with a pile of human emotions. "Hey Spock, they actually had bread today at dinner, and you know how rare that is," Dalton attempted, trying to rouse the Vulcan out of his daze. Yet, Spock did not respond, he did not give any indication that he even heard the human's words. Dalton frowned at his silence, and let Spock's hand go roughly.

No longer having a human fist encircling his own, the food fell lazily out of his hand and onto his right leg where it had been resting. Dalton sighed angrily and glared at Spock as well as the crumbs of food all over his leg.

"Why don't you say something dammit! You can't keep doing this to yourself!" Dalton screamed. Spock did not even flinch as he continued to ignore the human. "Spock, what the fuck happened in that room? What's wrong with you!?" he screamed again. Yet, it gathered no response.

Suddenly Spock felt a sharp stinging sensation flood his left cheek. Dalton had slapped him harshly in the face. A flash of _saysomethinggoddammit!I'mworriedaboutyou _surged through the contact, and it was just unexpected enough to cause him to react.

Spock blinked slowly and lifted his head up to regard the human, who was gazing down at him with a mixture of frustration and worry.

"Please Spock, talk to me. What happened to you?" he tried again, albeit softer this time as he got down on his knees so that he would be level with the Vulcan.

Slowly, Spock brought his hand to his stinging cheek; it was the most movement he had allowed himself since the _severing_ that did not involve his work in the mines, or his personal, basic biological needs. Surprisingly, he felt a small bout of clarity from the strike. _Fascinating, _he thought errantly to himself. Fascinating that a physical act such as striking one's face could actually help bring him back to some semblance of a reality. _Very much like bringing one out of a healing trance, _the scientist in him compared.

Dalton started to look guilty as Spock continued to clasp his greening cheek. "Look, I'm sorry I had to hit you, but you're scaring me. Two weeks, Spock. _Two weeks_ you've been practically catatonic! A fucking zombie! You haven't eaten anything, I don't think I've seen you drink anything, and I honestly don't know how long the Romulans, Cardassians, or whoever the fuck decides to have a go at you, will continue biding their time! I'm surprised they've let you go this long without a confrontation!" he exclaimed, clearly perplexed as he sat back on his heels to regard the Vulcan with slightly wide eyes.

Of course, Spock could make an educated guess as to why he had not been bothered. Romulans and Cardassians both preferred it when their prey fought back, at least gave some semblance of a struggle. If Spock had truly been catatonic these last couple of weeks…

"I…I am sorry," he whispered, startled at how hoarse his voice sounded. Of course, he had not spoken a word since before the _severing, _and he had barely imbibed any water since that time.

Dalton gazed at him sympathetically. "Don't apologize Spock, just…talk to me? Tell me what happened? Maybe I can help if you tell me? What did they do to you?" Dalton queried again, bringing his hand to the Vulcan's shoulder in a supportive gesture.

Spock flinched just before the human's hand made contact with him, and instantly Dalton retracted the hand, a pitying expression on his face.

"Spock, I won't hurt you," he added after a moment's silence.

"It is my shields, Mr. Corwin, they are…not what they once were," Spock answered distantly as his voice trailed off.

A look of understanding came over the human's face.

"Okay Spock, I won't touch you, okay? I don't want to hurt you."

Spock's brow furrowed together as he regarded the human before him. He could not deny that, as opposed to the past two weeks, he actually wanted Dalton to touch him, craved it even. So far, everyone that had touched him in this place had caused him harm, had taken something from him. Dalton had showed him nothing by kindness since he had come here. Perhaps, his touch would be gentle, calming even.

"Mr. Corwin, you may place your hand on my shoulder. It will not offend me," he invited the younger man stoically. There was no need to explain his emotional reasoning. He was certain the human would consent to this.

"Okay Spock, if you're sure, just tell me if you want me to stop," Dalton started as he went to place his hand back on the Vulcan's shoulder. Once it was settled there, he gave it a slight squeeze.

There was cloth in between the skin, but Spock could still feel the gentle, ambient emotions coming from the other man. Instead of a negative reaction, like he had previously assumed might happen, Spock felt a smooth calm radiate through him, and for the first time in two weeks, he sighed, and admitted to himself that he felt safe again. It was illogical, since at any moment he could be beamed up to the _Limbo Room_, or the Cardassians could make another appearance in his cell, yet he could not deny feeling it.

Looking from the human hand back to the Dalton's imploring face, Spock suddenly wished to tell the human everything. He needed to share this, for he could not hold it inside him any longer. If he could not meditate, then he would resort to more human methods.

"You do not understand, but I will endeavor to explain it to you. What has been taken from me? It was not taken willingly. I…I cannot seem to accept it. I cannot…find my balance…" Spock admitted, his tone ending in a frightened whisper. He was startled at how emotional it sounded coming out of his mouth. Yet, he could not avoid the emotional inflection as he remembered the horrific mind meld that had taken everything from him.

"I agree that the Cardassians are assholes Spock, but I'm talking about…" Dalton began, obviously concluding that Spock was referencing to his unfortunate sexual encounter with them. And while that _had_ been unfortunate, it was not as devastating as what he was actually referring to.

"I am not referring to the Cardassians, Mr. Corwin. This is another matter entirely," Spock stated with a hint of anger directed at both the Vulcans, and the Cardassians. Perhaps if the Cardassians had not done what they had, he would have been able to defend himself more adequately when Delvok entered his mind. He would have been able to fight the Vulcan off.

Dalton's eyes widened at the blatant show of emotion, but he did not speak. He simply waited for Spock to continue, which he did.

He did not know why he told Dalton what had happened to him in the _Limbo Room_, there was no logical reason to do so. However, it felt, _actually felt _good to tell someone about it. It was almost like the chaos which was raging inside him where the bond had been, had reduced itself in size. It was still there. However, it was not as cavernous as it had once been. The pus that festered inside and along the gaping hole had been reduced ever so slightly, and all because he listened to his human half, and shared some of the pain he had been feeling.

_Fascinating. _

He then proceeded to tell Dalton of the house his mind had erected, how it had been his house on Vulcan before its destruction. He told him of the overwhelming presence, which forced him to open the link with his father, thereby giving Delvok access to it in order to destroy it. He confided to Dalton the feeling of being ripped in half and splattered out into the nothingness of space as soon as the bond had been severed. But it was not until he told him of his father, how he had tried to hold onto him so fiercely that things started to take an emotional turn. It was not until he explained how afterwards, when his mind reached out for his father's mental presence; and that he had felt so undeniably cold and alone, did Spock actually break down and weep. Hearing the events spoken from his own mouth had been vastly different than just thinking about them internally. Hearing them spoken aloud brought the memory back to life.

He could count on onehand the number of times he had cried in his life. The first two times were when he was a mere child back on Vulcan before he had gotten control over his emotions. The third time was when Jim had died on the Enterprise, and now, he was experiencing the fourth time.

There was a brief flicker of shock that flashed in the other man's eyes at the sight of a crying Vulcan, but it was quickly flushed out by an earnest look of sympathy. Gently squeezing the Vulcan's shoulder again where his hand still lay, Dalton leaned in closer to him, his gaze imploring.

"I can't tell you it's gonna be okay, Spock. Hell, it probably won't be for any of us, and I can't tell you that I understand what you're going through, because I don't. I'm not Vulcan, but I can imagine it would make me feel horrible, isolated even. All I can tell you is that this isn't the end. Sure it may feel like it, but it's not. You can't let them win. You're too strong for that," Dalton encouraged him earnestly as he gripped his shoulder harder.

Spock turned his face away, he was not so sure about his strength anymore.

"I know who you are Spock, who you used to be out there. Word travels fast in here, and were you, or were you not the fucking First Officer of the Enterprise?" Dalton continued, obviously not agreeing with the defeated expression on Spock's face. At the harshness in his tone, Spock turned back to face him.

"Indeed I…I was…" he said, his words trailing off as he went to focus on the wall behind Dalton. That life seemed like so long ago now just as an image of Norkot pushing him into the cot with his own body paraded through his mind. Things like that did not happen to First Officers.

_First Officer indeed_.

Suddenly Dalton's fingers gripped his chin to angle his face back around until he was once again facing the human. Spock felt a surge of determination through the link that the contact brought. "Damn right. Now, you're going to get up, brush yourself off, and get back on the horse."

Spock raised an eyebrow at the idiom, as horses had little to do with the situation at hand, but Dalton would not be distracted. This was now the second time the human had compared his situation with that of the equine species. Spock assumed the human held some sort of fascination for them.

"They want you to do this, Spock. They want you to be an emotional wreck, they _want _you to lie down and take it up the ass…" Spock's second eyebrow joined the first, "and you can't let em' win, you hear me?" Dalton finished in a steadfast tone.

Spock pondered his words for three point four seconds. While they might be considered harsh by most human standards, Spock could not help but see the logic in them. He knew that Warden Brixton would want nothing more than to see him fail. To see him completely torn apart by this place. _"I will enjoy breaking you," _the menacing words uttered to him on his very first day here came raging back to him. Was that not what they were doing to him now? No. It was unacceptable. Spock would not be broken. He would endure. As difficult as it was going to be, he would be successful. _Kaiidith._

"I find a certain logical, yet _satisfyingly _emotionalappeal to your words, Mr. Corwin," he replied simply, already feeling more confidence in himself than he had since his arrival at Doradus Prime.

Dalton smiled at him, apparently satisfied with the turn of events. "Good. Now get your ass up, and come with me to the showers. You haven't bathed in two weeks, and I'm sorry Spock, but you're starting to stink," Dalton commented, albeit humorously.

Spock's eyebrows rose astoundingly high at that one. "Indeed?"

Dalton laughed as he made to stand up and offered his hand to the Vulcan to offer aid.

"Indeed," Dalton concurred as Spock reached for the outstretched hand, which heaved him off the floor. Normally, Spock would have refused such a physical form of assistance, but as he was undeniably weak with dehydration, and lack of sustenance from two weeks deprivation; Dalton's assistance was welcome. Feelings of warmth, friendship, and relief flooded through the link between the two of them. Before, these feelings might have brought him discomfort, especially since he could barely shield himself, but he found himself bathing in the benign emotions he had not felt since Jim had last touched him. It was like there was some part of him that needed to be reminded that emotions as affable and tranquil as the ones Dalton was exhibiting still existed. That not everything was hate, anger, and pain.

"So these two Vulcan dudes; the ones who fucked up your head, had you ever seen them before?" Dalton questioned offhandedly as they made their way through the corridors. Spock faltered in his step and pursed his lips together. Just thinking about what Delvok and Suvok had manipulated him into doing back on Earth brought a surge of anger to the surface. Dalton halted, and gazed at him curiously when he did not provide an answer right away.

"They did seem familiar to me, though I could not recall where I had seen them before," Spock admitted, careful to leave out any details that involved the murder.

"Oh? That's weird, I thought Vulcans had that…that super memory?"

"_Eidetic _memory," Spock corrected before continuing, "we do, unless of course, our memories are tampered with."

Dalton's eyes widened at the admission. "You think…you think they messed with your memories?"

"I do not think; I am _certain_ that that is what occurred. It was revealed to me that both of these Vulcans played a large part in the conspiracy that sent me here initially," Spock revealed, his tone laden with fury that did not go unnoticed by the human.

"What do you mea…" Dalton had started, but Spock gave him a pointed look, effectively silencing him.

"I do not wish to speak of it further, Mr. Corwin. Doing so," Spock sighed, a very human sugh that never would have done prior to his stay on Doradus, "has a detrimental effect on me," he admitted shamefully. The human had seen him cry not longer than five minutes ago. What was one more emotional display on his part? However, he did not want Dalton knowing just what it was that had landed him here in the first place. Even though he had been manipulated by the two Vulcans, it was still by his hand that Anton Mitchells was now dead, and that fact shamed him to the core.

Dalton, fortunately, sensed his reluctance and dropped the subject. Spock decided instead to ask him what it was he had done to garner a life-sentence in Doradus. He knew it would be rude to inquire, but he could not help himself. This human had been nothing but kind, giving, and selfless throughout his time here. What could he have done that was so menacing to get him sent to a place like this?

"Mr. Corwin, if I may, what crime did you commit to garner a life-sentence at Doradus Prime?" Spock asked as he inclined his head in the human's direction. Dalton faltered in his step and averted his gaze to the ground with an evident frown. For a second, Spock wondered if he had done the wrong thing by asking something so personal. He was just about to retract his statement and apologize, when Dalton answered him quietly.

"Not all of us are as innocent as you Spock…"

Spock raised his eyebrows. "Clarify."

Dalton sighed heavily before coming to stop so that he could face the Vulcan head on.

"I killed someone. It was an accident though…I didn't mean to," he admitted wearily, his voice trailing off.

Spock became confused. "I do not understand. If it was an accident, then the charge of murder is inapplicable in this situation, is it not? Involuntary Manslaughter would be the more applicable charge," Spock had started to argue, but Dalton waved him down.

"No. It's not like that Spock. I…I wanted him dead. He had…the man had just shot my brother. Believe me, I wanted him dead."

Spock frowned. "Then, I do not understand."

"I wanted him dead, but I didn't want to be the one to do it. When I pulled that trigger, it was more of a reflex than anything. One of his other guys that was there during all the chaos tackled me from behind and, and I just pulled the phaser's trigger out of reflex. But apparently my aim couldn't have been any more perfect. It got the guy straight in the chest, and he was dead before he hit the ground. It hadn't even been a month, and I was shipped off here," Dalton explained reluctantly as he shifted his feet from right to left. Spock noted that humans did this when they were uncomfortable with the conversation, but he still could not help questioning him further.

"What had your brother done to warrant such an attack?"

Dalton's face blushed slightly, "I'd really rather not talk about it Spock, just like you don't want to talk about your past. I'm sorry, it's just; it brings back too many bad memories, you know?"

Spock understood completely, yet it did not quell his curiosity. However, he did not wish to be offensive and inclined his head. "Of course Mr. Corwin, my apologies. I did not mean to pry into your personal affairs."

"Don't fucking do that either," Dalton said sardonically.

Spock quirked an eyebrow. "To what are you referring?"

"That thing you do when you apologize, but at the same time make me feel like an asshole."

"I apol…"

"_Dude_…what did I just say?"

"My name is Spock, not '_Dude', _Mr. Corwin," he replied lightly with the slightest quirk in his lips. Dalton merely chuckled at him.

"And _my _name is Dalton, Mr. Spock, not '_Mr. Corwin,_" he corrected in a mocking voice meant to be taken humorously.

"Very well, Dalton."

((oOo))

**Stardate 2260.2**

Three months. That's how long Spock had now been a prisoner at Doradus Prime's penal colony. After Dalton's very human pep-talk as a result of the _severing_ of his father's bond in the _Limbo Room, _Spock endeavored every day to hold his head high, although it was proving to be increasingly challenging as the weeks went by.

For one thing, his visits to the _Limbo Room _had grown more grotesque in nature. He had come to expect a visit to the most hated room in the prison at least once a week now. At first, the procedures he was subjected to involved collecting blood and tissue samples from him, or observing how he would react to a certain medication or drug. It was almost like they were trying to map out his entire biological system for some larger goal or purpose. Here in the past two weeks however, the experiments made a drastic change.

Now, Dr. Edison was becoming increasingly creative in the way he experimented on Spock. The visits themselves had become more invasive, and far more physical in nature. Just last week, Spock had actually undergone an exploratory surgery, but to what purpose, Spock had no fathomable idea. He could only be grateful that Dr. Edison had been merciful enough to administer anesthesia, and after countless internal scans on his person after the procedure, he had come to the conclusion that nothing important had been removed from him. Nor had anything been added. The incision site, fortunately, did not take long to heal with today's advanced medical technology. However, Spock found it disturbing that now, whenever he showered in the sanitation room and actually peered down at his body, he was met with the sight of old surgical scars along with the numerous radiation rashes.

He had only been here three months, and yet his body had changed so much already it seemed.

He could not help the illogical feeling of apprehension that settled in his gut at the thought of what the doctor had in mind upon his next visit. He had heard gruesome tales from Dalton that the doctor actually enjoyed performing surgery on coherent subjects from time to time. Some of the humans even referred to the man as a _Nazi Surgeon. _Spock knew enough about Earth's twentieth century history to know that anything associated with the barbaric war faction known as the _Nazis, _would not lead to an agreeable experience. The thought of it, if he had been human, made his skin crawl.

In addition to the weekly visits to the _Limbo Room,_ the Cardassians had sought every able opportunity they could to attack him as viciously as they had the very first time they ambushed him in his cell. Spock had become so intimate with their animalistic thoughts and anatomy, that he could now _feel _them in his mind when they were searching for him. It was times like these that he chose to believe that Jim did not believe him dead, despite what his father would have undoubtedly told him. It was during his sexual assaults that he illogically hoped his captain would make good on his promise, despite Spock's warning not to do so, and come and get him. To take him from this place before it tore him apart.

He hated having the Cardassians in his mind, and in many ways it was almost worse than the gaping hole that used to belong to Sarek. But…it did have its advantages.

For one thing, being able to sense the Cardassians enabled him to send Dalton off and away from him in the event that the human was in his company when they were near. At first, Dalton had not caught on to what Spock was doing, but eventually, he had grown suspicious. In fact, on one occasion, Spock and Dalton had been in the sanitation rooms after a long, hard day in the mines, when the familiar _Cardassian _mental signature started to seep into Spock's brain, almost like a poison.

Spock warned him of their impending approach, but Dalton had refused to leave Spock's side. Spock had stated that his incessant need to further place himself in danger on his account was illogical, but the younger man was just as stubborn as a certain captain he had once known.

Not knowing what else could be done, Spock applied a nerve pinch, and sent him off with some of Jacques' gang who had also been frequenting the room at the time. He knew he would _catch hell_, as Jim had often termed it, from Dalton for giving him over to them. Dalton still was not on speaking terms with Jacques or any of the humans involved with him, but it could not be helped. He would not see the human suffer the same way that he did on a routine basis. He would not see Dalton violated in such a way.

Five minutes later after Dalton and the other humans had long disappeared, the Cardassians had indeed found their target. Spock put up a valiant fight like he always did, but it was no use. In the end, the Cardassians won out and had their way with him over, and over again.

Spock thought that by now he would have been able to formulate some sort of mental defense against the vile acts being done against his person, but every time it happened, he was unsuccessful, and every time he felt less and less like himself. _Endure, _he would repeat to himself silently as the aliens ravaged him again and again. _Endure._

The Romulans also took turns with the Cardassians in using Spock as a target for their hostile bigotry. However, with the Romulans, their physical attacks had lessened considerably, and had mainly turned into verbal taunting and threats. It was almost like Lokar and his gang were just becoming bored with him, which was acceptable to Spock. The fewer aggressors he had to worry about, the more on guard he could be.

He had expected the Klingons and Orions to make their debut in his daily harassment as the other factions had so ambitiously done, but to his surprise, they had not lifted a finger toward him. Spock did not know whether to be wary of this, or grateful. Aside from the occasional shove, trip, or derogatory remark, the Klingons and Orions were content to leave him be. Given the hostile nature of the Klingons, Spock could not help but be extremely suspicious of this. Yes, he was grateful that he did not have to put up with _their_ assaults as well as everyone else's, but it just did not sit right with him.

Continuing to be confused by the notion, Spock decided to ask Dalton about it. He seemed to know the nature of the factions at Doradus better than anyone. That, and the fact that Dalton was the only inmate at Doradus Prime whom he was one speaking terms with also had something to do with it. Who else would he ask these questions?

"I think the Klingons just see you as their voucher for staying out of the _Limbo Room. _I don't think they want to risk the chance of killing that voucher. I'm surprised the Romulans and Cardassians haven't picked up on that yet actually,_" _he answered through a mouth full of food from the seat across from him in the mess hall at breakfast one morning.

Spock raised his eyebrows.

"I do not understand what you mean by the term, voucher. Explain," he queried, and Dalton suddenly became a dark shade of red before he averted his gaze to a spot on Spock's bowl. Spock knew by human standards, this meant that the young man had miscalculated, and said something he had been trying to withhold.

"Dalton, explain your statement," Spock stated again, intent on capturing the man's gaze. Dalton took an exaggerated swig from his mug in front of him and slammed it down with a heavy clang before sighing. Spock would never understand why humans did this with their drinks, as if the over dramatization of imbibing liquid would somehow lesson the difficulty of confessing something one did not wish to confess.

"Before," the human paused again and sighed, "before you came here, Dr. Edison used to perform his savage experiments on _everyone _here," Dalton continued seriously, lowering his voice slightly so that only Spock could hear him.

"I was unaware that he had ceased in this endeavor," Spock replied curiously. Just two days ago, Dalton himself had been summoned to the _Limbo Room_ and came back trembling violently and sporting several hypospray needle marks.

"He hasn't _ceased_ anything Spock. It's just, since you came, his focus seems to be on you…and…and the humans here at Doradus," Dalton went on reluctantly.

Spock's forehead wrinkled in consternation. "He does not experiment on the other beings here in the prison?"

Dalton slowly shook his head.

"Why? Why would my arrival to Doradus have any impact on the choice of test subjects available to Dr. Edison?" Spock asked, his tone becoming slightly heated. He did not understand this penal colony, nor anything that took place inside it. To say that it was frustrating was an understatement.

"Hell if I know Spock! All I know, is that the minute you got here, everyone except the humans stopped being taken to the _Limbo Room_. I think it's one reason why Jacques and the rest of the humans don't like you very much," he paused and looked thoughtful, as if he had just thought of something, "that and the fact that you're Commander Spock, and you served under Captain Kirk, who, from what the other humans tell me, is supposed to be some hot shit or something," he said sardonically with a roll of his eyes. He then fixed Spock with a very serious stare. "They seem to think that you're the one to blame for them spending double the time under Dr. Edison's knife."

Spock felt an undeniably cold feeling begin to wrap around his Vulcan heart. For once, it seemed that Mr. Jacques' hatred for him was logical in a crudely emotional way.

"If…if what you say is true, then I am the reason why Dr. Edison has been more adamant in…" he had started to explain as a heavy swarm of human guilt began to assault him, and caused him to stumble over his words. It was his fault that Dalton and his human companions spent so much time in that hated room. If he had not killed someone, Dalton would not be suffering twice over at the hands of Dr. Edison.

"I don't even want to fucking hear that bullshit Spock," the human spat as he narrowed his eyes dangerously at Spock. "Don't ever blame yourself for that sadistic fuck's actions. It's not your fault, and if the rest of the humans here can't see that, fuck 'em."

The stone cold look in Dalton's eyes suppressed Spock's urge to argue with him on the subject. It was illogical to debate an argument which could not be won, and if Dalton was as much like Jim as Spock thought him to be, he definitely would not win.

"As you wish," Spock replied simply, going back to his pitiful excuse for a meal, which was some sort of ground meat mixed with a grainy porridge. After three months of eating meat, Spock found he no longer became sickened by it. It was just another minor change in the drastic changes that had already happened to him.

Later that day, after a long and tedious shift in the mines, Spock was walking with Dalton to the sanitation rooms to shower, when he felt the familiar tugging at his abdomen that signaled a beam out was about to take place. Immediately, anxiety began to take hold of him as was the custom now when he was beamed anywhere out of the _Prison Pop_. Here, a beam out only ended in one thing…pain. Agonizing amounts of it. However, his anxiety quickly transpired into fear as he saw that Dalton too, appeared to be swirling in the transporter beam's lights.

Instantly they both appeared side-by-side in the transporter room where Warden Brixton and his usual guard detail. Jenkins, to Spock's immense relief, had long been transferred off of Doradus Prime, and thus, he did not have to see the human again. All of the guards stood there staring at them, their usual smirks plastered all over their faces.

Spock shared a hesitant glance with Dalton, who looked just as perplexed as he did. Never before had he been beamed out of the _Prison Pop_ with another prisoner, and he did not want to think about what that meant.

"Well, well, well, Spock and his human toy. I hope we weren't, uh, interrupting anything?" The Warden sneered as he made his way over to them. Spock ignored the ignorant comment made at their expense. He had other things on his mind.

"What is the meaning of this? Why is Mr. Corwin here?" Spock asked before he could stop himself. He could not help feeling a surge of protection for the human next to him, who he had come to consider his closest, and only friend here at Doradus. He did not wish to see him hurt.

A sharp slap in the face silenced the Vulcan, and Dalton glared daggers at the Warden who had struck him with the back of his hand, but he did not make a sound.

"Once again, you're speaking without being spoken to, I thought Vulcans were supposed to be smart? Someone must have dropped you on your head as a baby," he joked before signaling his guards to usher the duo along.

It did not take Spock long to deduce that they were indeed headed to the _Limbo Room_. Dalton subconsciously seemed to move closer to Spock as they walked through the corridors. He had no doubt realized where they were headed, and Spock had to resist the urge to give the human a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. Oh how prison had changed him in the past three months. He would never consider doing such a thing before coming here.

When they finally came to the dreaded room, Dr. Edison and his usual team of doctors, Stevens and Harken, were already there, busying themselves at various lab equipment. Spock did not fail to notice that instead of the usual single examination table, which existed in the middle of the room normally, there were now _two_ of them laying side-by-side. Spock eyed the new furniture with a raised eyebrow but said nothing. It would only earn him another backhand across the face, or perhaps an encounter with the baton.

Dalton however, had begun to tremble nervously, and Spock tried to send waves of calm to him with his mind, but he was unsure whether or not he was successful. He knew if he concentrated hard enough, he could sometimes project emotions onto others, but it was frowned upon in Vulcan society so it was not logical to practice the skill. He never thought he would regret that decision.

"Ah, if it isn't my oh-so-special Vulcan and the manchild!" Dr. Edison acknowledged them gleefully. Spock and Dalton shared another glance, but otherwise remained silent. "I have to tell you, I'm very excited for today's experiment! It doesn't have much to do with my overall goals, but, well, a man does have to blow off steam every once in a while right?" Edison furthered jubilantly. The excited trill in his voice did nothing for Spock's nerves. He could only imagine what they were doing to Dalton's.

"Well, you two know the drill, take your clothes off, and come lie on the table. Don't make me have the Warden make you, we all know how that works out." Edison added knowingly.

Spock heard the Warden chuckle in appreciation as both he and Dalton reluctantly obeyed the doctor, and divested themselves of all their clothing. Spock shivered slightly as he removed his pants, and he was not sure if it was from the cold, or from being so exposed so recently after a sexual assault; for, Norkot and his gang had taken him just that morning, and the experience was still so fresh in his body. However, the last thing Spock wanted was to be forced onto the table by Brixton. It had proved most unpleasant several times before.

As soon as they were situated on the table, Spock on the left and Dalton on the right, both Harken and Stevens made their way over, and began securing them both in the restraints. However, instead of Spock's right hand being secured in his own wrist cuff, it was secured in the wrist cuff meant for Dalton on his table. After the cuff was fastened tight enough, Dalton's wrist was then forced into the wrist restraint on Spock's table. It was done in such a way that their skin rubbed against the each other's unavoidably.

Immediately, Spock felt himself pulled into Dalton's emotions. He was frightened, tense, and angry. Spock again attempted to send waves of tranquility through the newly established link, and as Dalton's negative emotions began to lose some of their strength, Spock knew he had been successful. At least one thing had gone right today.

"Remember how I said I wanted to test out some aspects of your Vulcan telepathy?" Dr. Edison queried as he made to stand over the naked Vulcan and human on the table.

"I do recall that conversation, yes." Spock responded, effectively masking the wariness he was beginning to feel at the direction the conversation had taken.

"Oh yes, I forgot, eidetic memory and all that…"

Spock raised an eyebrow. Dr. Edison promptly ignored him as he continued.

"Today we will be testing certain, _aspects_ to that telepathy. I wish to know more about the nature of this power you Vulcans seem to possess. How does it work? How powerful is it? Oh, there are just so many questions! And as you and this human have seemed to become," Dr. Edison paused and narrowed his eyes, "_friendly_ with one another, this makes him perfect for what I wish to do."

Confusion laced with fear surged from Dalton to Spock through the link. Spock would have tried to calm him, but he found himself illogically feeling the same things. It was a universal assumption that Vulcans did not lie, but in this case, Spock found it extremely logical to attempt to do just that.

"The relationship between Mr. Corwin and myself is purely professional. It just so happens that he is frequently stationed in close proximity to me during our shifts in the mines. We are not friends, Vulcans do not have friends; we merely tend to be in each other's company more so than usual. Therefore, it would not add any greater weight on whatever procedure you are going to perform," Spock attempted. It was a poor attempt, he knew, but it was all he had. Perhaps if they believed that Dalton was not considered a friend to him, they would cease whatever horror they were planning on enacting upon them this evening.

He felt a tiny trickle of offense from Dalton at his harsh words, but they were quickly stomped out. Surely Dalton understood what Spock was trying to do.

"Don't you fucking lie, _Vulcan_! You think the guards don't watch the prisoners here? You think we don't know what goes on down there in that shithole?" Warden Brixton snapped at him.

"Vulcans do not lie," Spock answered evenly.

"But half-breeds do," Brixton retorted venomously.

"Dr. Edison, The Electromechanical Amplifier has been properly warmed up. It's ready for use," Dr. Stevens muttered nonchalantly from his place at a machine Spock had never seen before, which was adjacent to them.

The smile on Dr. Edison's face was almost childlike.

"Ah yes! Thank you. Dr. Stevens? If you would hook the human up?"

The fear radiating through Dalton was almost palpable to Spock. He could tell by the way the boy's skin was sporadically rubbing against his, that he was struggling in his restraints, and would likely injure himself. _Calm yourself Dalton, _Spock sent through the link. He did not expect to actually get an answer, as Dalton was human after all, but he did.

_Calm myself? How the fuck can I remain calm! _Dalton fired back, his mental voice amazingly strong despite being human, and therefore psi-null.

Stevens nodded once, and walked towards Dalton, a hungry look in his eyes.

"Wh-what are you gonna do?!" Dalton asked in a terrified voice. Dr. Stevens ignored him as he proceeded to place two small electrode nodes on Dalton's forehead. Immediately Spock began to feel uneasy. Whatever was about to happen, it was not going to be pleasant. As he watched the scene impassively, another errant thought trickled through his mind.

He knew he should not be thinking it, it was appalling to do so, but he could not help the small bout of relief that crept through him at the fact that it was not Jim laying there beside him, about to suffer through whatever hell was planned for them. While Dalton meant a great deal to him, more than he would care to admit, the thought of Jim lying strapped to the same table with fear ripping through him was agonizing. Fortunately, this train of thought did not get through to Dalton.

Satisfied with the placement of the nodes, Dr. Stevens took his place back by the machine and awaited further instruction. Dr. Edison nodded once to him, signaling the go-ahead.

"Spock?" Was all Dalton managed to say before the machine was activated, and the piercing screams of Dalton Corwin began resonating throughout the room. Immediately Spock felt the worst pain imaginable searing through the link between them. The human was in complete agony, and Spock was spared no expense as his pain leaked through the link and coursed through him. However, as he was receiving it second-hand, he could control it. Dalton, unfortunately, could not.

Momentarily taken aback by the sheer force of his agony, Spock could do nothing for a whole ten point three seconds, but eventually he was able to compose himself just long enough to make another attempt at sending waves of calm through their link, to buffer his agony. It did little to help. The machine's power and intensity was simply too much for his Vulcan mind to block out for the human.

"Stop this! It is illogical!" Spock yelled, his voice betraying the concern he felt for his human friend. Dr. Edison laughed, but nevertheless signaled for Dr. Stevens to turn the machine off. Instantly Dalton stopped his screaming, which had quickly become hoarse and ragged from overuse. Spock watched as he lay there, panting and shaking on the table next to him, unable to do a thing.

"Tell me Vulcan, were you able to feel his pain?" Dr. Edison asked in a way that a doctor might ask a patient, _when was the last time you noticed this symptom_?

Spock erratically nodded. "His pain is great. You must cease this. He cannot take it." Spock tried to argue logically. There was no point in hiding the fact that he could feel Dalton's pain, as everyone in the room already knew what he was capable of telepathically.

"Well, that's up to you isn't it?" Dr. Edison retorted smugly before nodding to Stevens again.

Again, Dalton's hoarse, ravaged screams echoed throughout the room, and Spock felt himself once more being flooded with erratic, mind-engulfing agony. The body beside him began to shake uncontrollably, and Spock could see a thin trickle of red liquid begin seeping out of his nostril. It was blood. Spock felt a surge of panic at the sight.

"Please! Stop this! You will kill him!" Spock pleaded desperately, not caring how emotional he sounded. If they kept up this attack, Dalton would surely not survive it. He would start convulsing before the end of it, possibly go into cardiac arrest. If that happened, would Spock be able to enter his mind through their link? Would it be possible to take over the human's bodily functions and restart his heart if necessary? Did he even have that power? Spock did not wish to find out.

"I totally agree with you! You should do something about it! No?" Dr. Edison prompted him again with jubilance, only adding to his confusion. A few more seconds passed by before suddenly, it dawned on him what the doctor was hinting at, and he was instantly ashamed of not thinking of doing it before. Taking his eyes off of Dr. Edison, Spock shut them tightly and focused all his concentration onto the human next to him. Specifically, on the fiery pain which was consuming him.

Inwardly, Spock sought an opening through the link, which would lead him into Dalton's mind. Since Dalton was not Vulcan, it was not difficult at all to gain access, as there were no shields in place, and even though what he was about to do would be considered an offense on Vulcan, Spock had no choice. It was this, or watch Dalton suffer needlessly until he eventually stopped breathing.

As Spock delved further into his mind, he found the sporadically spinning, white coated globe that was Dalton's pain, and proceeded to take it into himself. The globe was hot and agonizing to Spock's mental touch, but he pushed through. He had one goal in mind, to take the pain into himself so that Dalton could not feel it. So that he could be free of it.

The screaming continued, but instead of Dalton's hoarse voice as the source, it was Spock's instead. He had been successful. He had taken all of Dalton's pain, the white, fiery ball, and placed it in his own mind. It was a pain so intense, so enraged, and so panicked, that for a fleeting second, Spock thought he might actually die from it. _Would that not be fitting, to die here, strapped to an operating table, screaming illogically, _Spock thought bitterly to himself through the agonized wailing. He was surprised he was even able to think something so coherent.

He did not know when he became aware that someone was squeezing his hand tightly, as if to reassure him. In a previous life, such a gesture would be deemed illogical. To Spock right now though, it served as a focal point, something to help him cope through this agonized fire he was currently burning in. _I'mrighthereSpock! _The presence beside him called out as his hand was squeezed tighter. For a moment in his delirium, he thought the presence was Jim, and his heart, despite his agonizing turmoil, leapt at the thought. But, it was not Jim. Jim was not here, Dalton was. It was Dalton squeezing his hand beside him.

"Alright, that's enough. Turn it off," someone barked, and just like that, the pain ceased to exist. It took four point three seconds for his vision to come back to him, and when it did, Spock saw Dr. Edison and the Warden smiling widely down at him, obviously satisfied with the experiment.

Dalton was still squeezing his hand fiercely, as if he was afraid to let go, and through the mental contact, the human _was_ still afraid, as well as severely angry. Somewhat dazed, Spock let his head fall to the side to peer at his friend who was staring back him with worry and concern. His nose was still bleeding, and he was still visibly trembling, but other than that, Spock could find no serious injuries on the other man. A wetness cascading down from his nose, and over his lip told Spock that his nose was also bleeding.

"I knew you had it in you, _Commander_. You just lacked the proper incentive," Dr. Edison sounded as he noted something on his PADD. Spock wanted to reply, to tell Dr. Edison exactly how he felt about his so-called _experiments_, but he did not have the energy to do so. Once again, the _Limbo Room_ had managed to deplete all of it.

"Warden, take these prisoners out of my sight," the doctor ordered dismissively, before walking over to Dr. Stevens to discuss the night's events. The Warden eyed the two of them as Harken made to undo their restraints. Dalton, Spock noticed, continued to hold onto the Vulcan even though he was no longer restrained, although his grip shifted from his hand to his wrist once they were freed.

Together they both stumbled off the table, and out of the room. Spock did not know how they stayed on their feet, but they managed it. It was probably due to the beating they would receive should their steps falter. As they were shoved into the transporter room, the Warden eyed Spock in what could only be described as curiosity.

"I'm surprised by you Spock," he stated curiously.

Normally, Spock would have raised an eyebrow, but he was finding it difficult just to remain standing at this point.

"From what I've heard of you, I expected more of a fight, you know? I at least expected you to make an escape attempt by now, but you just continue to take it, day after day; like a dog," Brixton sneered.

Spock wanted to tell him how illogical that notion was. For one thing, he was not a canine, and for another, he could not begin to try and think of a way out of here. The prison was to heavily guarded, and even if he did manage to breach the surface, if he did not secure a shuttle craft, he would surely freeze to death from the planet's arctic temperatures.

No. Escaping was illogical. He did not have the resources to do so.

"What is your point?" Spock found himself managing with extreme difficulty.

Brixton smirked.

"Only that an innocent man would surely have put up more of a fight over these past few months…" the Warden admitted.

Suddenly Spock felt like he had been stabbed in the heart. Immediately he looked up to meet the man's gaze with wide, disbelieving eyes.

Brixton laughed at his expression.

Dalton looked at the scene with evident shock.

"So, you are aware that I am innocent? Yet you remain to keep me here," Spock stated in disgust. Of course, he had always known on some level that the Warden had known of Spock's set-up, he had been there when the Vulcans had admitted to manipulating his mind. However, the Vulcans had been vague in that confession, and Spock was willing to give Brixton the benefit of the doubt. To know that this conspiracy to get him here was so large, so involved, it was painful to think about.

"Of course I knew. You think you got sent here on accident? You're here because Starfleet wants you here, Vulcan. Plain and simple," Brixton spat at him with hard eyes.

Suffocation: That is what Spock felt at that moment. He felt like he was suffocating. Here he was, in this hell being punished for a crime he had not committed. He was going to die here, and he had not even done anything wrong. He was never going to see Jim, _his Jim, _his father, Dr. McCoy, Uhura, or the rest of the Enterprise crew again. How could this be? How could so many people be involved?

"Breath, Spock," Dalton urged softly, seeing that the Vulcan was on the verge of an emotional breakdown.

Brixton was laughing again.

"Don't fret Spock, you're not entirely useless. There is a reason Starfleet went through such great lengths to get you here. You'll find out eventually. Hell, you should be proud! You're going to change the world!" Brixton boomed before punching in the order for the transporter, effectively beaming the two prisoners back into a place where neither of them belonged.

**A.N. So? Do ya'll like Dalton? I had a lot of fun writing him, so it'll be cool to get ya'lls thoughts on him! Thanks for reading! Happy Mother's Day! **


	15. What Hurts The Most

**A.N. Hi everyone! First of all, thank you for the loooovely reviews. You guys really keep me inspired, and everytime I read your lovely comments, I feel like writing a whole throng of chapters. Thank you to my betas, seriously girls...you ladies rock my world, and I hope everyone enjoys this! It's super long, so that's either a good thing...or a bad thing. **

Chapter 15:

What Hurts The Most

**U.S.S. Enterprise**

**Stardate: 2260.42**

"Goddammit Jim! I understand you're not known for your self-preservation skills, but this is taking it too damn far!" Bones chastised him seconds after Kirk rematerialized on the transporter platform, bruised and bleeding. Bones had obviously been waiting here impatiently with an entire medical team.

Kirk hissed just as a hypo stung his neck. His right arm screamed in agony, and he was pretty sure his wrist was broken. _Yep, just another day on the Enterprise_. Goddamn natives. It seemed like anything with the name '_native_' attached to it immediately meant, '_proceed with caution because somebody's gonna get their ass beat_'.

"OW! Damn you, Bones!" Kirk protested as he rubbed tenderly at the stinging flesh where the hypo had pierced him. And seriously, was an entire med team necessary? He was just one man for crying out loud!

"Don't you dare pander to me Jim! First, you beam down to a planet where we ALL KNOW the natives are hostile. Then you do it WITHOUT letting your First Officer know, and you don't take a security team!? Jesus, you could've at least taken Hendorff!" Bones admonished as he labored over Kirk's other wounds.

Kirk didn't even bother with arguing or raising an eyebrow at the reference to his Head of Security, the one he liked to call _Cupcake_. He knew Bones was right. It _had_ been royally stupid to go alone, but he hadn't wanted to risk anyone, and at least while he was down there, fighting for his life, he hadn't been up here, fighting his inner demons, which were worse.

"I'm here now, aren't I? So I'd appreciate it if you eased up off my back about it!" Kirk snapped bitterly, causing Bones to frown at him as he continued waving his tricorder around.

Some of the various crewmembers in the room glanced uneasily at one another, but didn't say anything. It wasn't like this behavior was new from their Captain. At least, it wasn't anything new from Kirk since the start of the five-year mission five months ago.

Spock had been dead for six.

"Captain!"

Kirk groaned at the sound of his irate First Officer, and suppressed an eye roll.

"Gary…" Kirk started.

"Don't _Gary_ me, Kirk. I thought we agreed that I was going to take a four-man team down to the planet?" Gary Mitchell, the Enterprise's newly appointed First Officer, snapped heatedly.

Kirk felt his face heat up. He was willing to put up with the questioning of his command from Spock, but this wasn't Spock, and never would be; not even close. "We did discuss it, _Commander_. We agreed that it was a good idea. We did not, however, agree to proceed with said idea—OW!" Kirk exclaimed as he palmed his neck again.

Bones had snuck another hypo in, and gave him an, _I don't give a fuck_ look before scanning him with the tricorder again.

Gary was visibly fuming and looked like he wanted to fling all manner of swear words at the captain. Instead, with blazing eyes, he settled for yelling, "you can't just go flying solo on every mission!" The room went completely silent as they waited for the captain to blow. He did that a lot these days.

"_**I**_ am the Captain, Mr. Mitchell; not you. I _will_ make the damn decisions around here, is that understood?" Kirk snapped as he batted Bones' tricorder away from his face, yet kept his eyes glued on his First.

Gary frowned and regarded him warily. "What happened to you Jim? You didn't always used to be this way," the man spoke somewhat softly, so the prying ears in the room had to strain to listen.

_What happened? What fucking happened? My best friend who I fucking realized too late I was in love with is fucking dead! That's what happened! _

"This isn't the Academy anymore, Gary. I've, _we've, _all come a long way since then," he answered darkly, and judging by the frown on Gary's face, the double meaning in his statement did not go unnoticed. When Kirk turned back to Bones, the doctor was fixing him with a sympathetic look. "Are we done here?" Kirk spat impatiently, causing the look of sympathy to disappear rapidly, a scowl taking its place.

"No Jim. We're not _done. _I want to see you in Sickbay in the next hour. Don't make me make it an order, because I will," Bones threatened before abruptly standing, and stalking off, waving sporadically at his people to clear out as he did so.

Kirk watched him go before rounding back on his First Officer.

"And _we_ are done," he seethed, disregarding the way Gary's eyes narrowed. Given their history, the man _still_ wasn't quite used to taking orders from Kirk. Of all the people Komack could've chosen, Gary just _had _to be the guy. Normally, the Captain appointed the First Officer, since it was his ship after all, but Kirk had literally waited till the last possible moment, and when that moment finally came, he still had not made a choice.

_More like 'didn't want' to make a choice._

So, Komack had chosen Gary Mitchell.

Kirk's first choice would've been Sulu, but he knew that with Hikaru at the helm most of the time, and the rest of that time in the Botany Lab, the guy just wouldn't have been able to devote himself fully to either, so he would've had to give one up. And, call him a softy, but Kirk hadn't wanted to make him choose. So he hadn't even put him in that position in the first place. However, whenever he had sat down to actually go through the stack of eager applicants all wanting a shot to serve on the _best ship in the Fleet_, he had just frozen up. He had not been able to do it. It had been just too damn painful. Replacing Spock? How could he even begin to _think_ about replacing Spock? Yes, the Enterprise had needed a First Officer, and Spock being dead had not changed that, but Kirk had been unable to make the decision; it had hurt too damn much, like salt being poured on an open wound.

So, Komack had inevitably made the decision, and now Kirk wished more than ever that he'd just sucked it up and picked a damn First Officer himself.

Kirk had known Gary back at the Academy. Besides Bones, Gary had been one of Kirk's closest friends. They both enjoyed good-looking woman (and men, come to find out). Both of them liked to bend the rules when it suited them, and both had a smart-ass mouth. But that wasn't what made this entire situation awkward. No, it was more than that.

In Kirk's second year, the two had been, sort of, _romantically_ involved. Well, it had been more like _Kirk_ got romantically involved. Thinking back on it now, he realized that to Gary, Kirk was merely an object to him, a fucktoy. It was _because _of Gary, Kirk had problems with committed relationships in the first place. Sure his mother, his brother, and dick stepfather didn't help matters any, but Gary sort of sealed the deal so to speak. Kirk didn't think he would _ever_ be able to trust himself in another relationship.

Until Spock had come into his life, and everything changed.

Kirk walked steadfastly back to his quarters, completely ignoring the worried gazes of the various crewmembers he passed by along the way. He knew he looked a sight, all beat up and bloody, but he didn't care. He just wanted to be alone with his thoughts so he could sulk in private. When he passed Spock's, no,_ Gary's_ quarters, he suppressed the urge to punch in the override code, and barge on in so he could throw himself on Spock's, no, _Gary's_, bed. However, he knew that even if he did give into the urge, it wouldn't be the same. All of Spock's personal belongings had been cleared out of the room, and given to his father shortly after his death. If he walked in there now, it would just be Gary's shit, and that was the last thing he wanted to be reminded of; especially of any _bed _belonging to Gary.

Kirk shuddered at an errant memory involving Gary and a bed, and sped hastily into his own room. His wrist still throbbed in pain, but after a quick glance at his chronometer, there was still forty-six minutes left until he had to go to Sickbay, and he was going to take every one of those minutes. Perhaps the pain in his wrist would deaden the pain that assaulted his heart.

Not even bothering to change out of his soiled, bloody clothes, Kirk dramatically landed on his own bed, and stared at the ceiling. He would never tell Bones, but a small part of him wished he'd died on that mission today. He wished that the natives had put an arrow straight through his heart instead of just grazing his arm. Then the pain would be gone for good.

((oOo))

McCoy paced back and forth in his office in Sickbay, all the while paying quick glances out of his door to make sure Jim hadn't decided to show up. By the sixth glance, he honestly didn't know why he bothered.

"Dammit Jim!" the doctor snarled as he glanced at the chronometer on his office wall. The captain was supposed to be here an hour ago! Well, that was just fine. If Jim didn't want to drag his ass into Sickbay, then he would drag Sickbay to him.

"I'll be back in a jiffy, Nurse Chapel. Tell M'Benga for me would ya?" McCoy hollered to his head nurse, who had been busy vaccinating a red shirted ensign. The look on her face told him she knew _exactly _where he was going. She'd been there in the transporter room. She knew Jim was supposed to be here.

"Of course, Dr. McCoy."

On the way to Jim's quarters, McCoy couldn't decide whether he was more annoyed with the man, or worried for him. Sure, Jim had always been reckless. Even the hobgoblin had known that, but since the start of this damn five-year mission, it seemed Jim didn't miss an opportunity to get himself hurt. _Almost like the kid wanted to die!_ McCoy shuddered at that thought. Jim wouldn't do something like that, would he?

To make matters worse, if he wasn't out diving in front of bullets, he was snapping at everyone in sight on the ship. He wasn't hostile, at least not yet_, _but it didn't take a genius to see that the Captain Kirk sitting in the chair today was very different from the one who sat in over a year ago. Where before he had always been a social butterfly who thrived on attention, now, he was withdrawn and standoffish. Before he had the ability to see humor in everything, and there had always been that Kirkian smirk plastered on his face. Now, McCoy would give his left testicle to see the kid crack even a hint of a smile.

Spock's death had hit him hard, and it continued to eat him up day after day. Since the start of the mission, Jim avoided the mess hall, and judging by his diet card, was skipping a significant amount of meals. McCoy had been Jim's friend for a long time now, and the Jim Kirk he knew could _always _put down a meal. Now though, he could barely get the man to eat a salad without threatening to put him on medical leave until he got his shit together. Hell, he'd already lost fifteen pounds! And that was going off his last physical exam which had been over two months ago! He was afraid to see how high the number had climbed since then.

However, despite the dickish behavior Jim had been flaunting around for the past five months, the crew was nothing but sympathetic and supportive towards their hurting captain. Specifically, the Alpha Bridge crew. Oh, and Scotty of course.

No one knew how much Jim had valued Spock better than Uhura, Scotty, Chekov, Sulu, and Carol, who had become their new Science Officer. They might be the youngest crew in the fleet, but as far as he was concerned, they were damn sure the most patient and the most understanding. Of course, only McCoy and Uhura _really _knew how much Spock meant to Jim, and he was pretty sure Uhura knew something more, but just wasn't keen on spilling the beans.

When Jim snapped at one of them, they took it in stride, but McCoy could tell that it was grating on them. They missed their captain, and he feared that the longer Jim continued alienating them, the harder it would be to reverse the damage.

Of course having _Gary-fucking-Mitchell_ was no help at all. Out of all the officers who'd applied for the position, Gary Mitchell was the lucky fucking apple to get picked, and according to Jim, he hadn't even been an applicant to begin with! Komack had chosen him from a completely different stack, which hadn't been weird or anything. Of course, if Jim had just picked someone himself, they wouldn't be in this position. _Goddamn you Jim, and the situations you get yourself into, _McCoy internally scowled as he prowled through the hallways, causing other crewmembers to regard him warily. 

He was the only one who really knew about Gary and Jim's sketchy past. He _had _been Jim's roommate at the Academy, therefore, he saw things, and Gary was a first class asshole. Sure, Jim came off as an asshole back at the Academy, but McCoy knew it had always been just a front to keep people at a distance, but Gary? Gary hadn't put up a front at all; he really was an egotistical prick. There had been _so _many things wrong with that so-called _relationship_ between Jim and Gary, that it made his head hurt. It had been mentally and verbally abusive, controlling, and just plain bad news. McCoy had known the first time he'd met Gary that there was jealousy there. Sure, they both had the same package to offer in the looks and swagger department, but Jim was smarter and brighter, and all in all the more likeable guy, and it irked the shit out of Gary. McCoy suspected that had been why the relationship had been like it was in the first place.

Now that Gary was First Officer, there was so much tension between the two men that you could cut it with a knife. The crew knew something was up between them, but they had no clue what, and it seemed like both Jim and Gary preferred it that way. However, it was just a matter of time though before things came to a head. There was no way Gary was going to be content being second best next to James Kirk forever. He just hoped that if it came to that, Gary would be the one to swing first, and for the love of God he hoped history didn't repeat itself. He didn't put it past that bastard to try and get into Jim's pants again; he only prayed that Jim learned his lesson the first time around. Only time would tell.

McCoy sighed as he came to a halt outside of Jim's quarters. He had his hand up mid-chime before just saying to hell with it, and punched in his medical override code. Once inside, he glanced around for Jim and scowled at the messy state the room was in. Everywhere he looked clothes littered the floor. Various PADDs were strewn carelessly about as well as barely eaten replicated dishes of God only knew what.

_Great, so even what he'd actually been replicating isn't getting eaten._

Jim had never been a neat-freak like Spock had always been, but he had never been _this _messy.

"Ever heard of knocking Bones? I thought you southern boys were good with manners and all," a mocking voice sounded from inside the joint bathroom. Seconds later Jim came waltzing out, a towel around his waist, and another one currently being used to dry his damp hair. _Well, at least he took a shower…_

"My manners pretty much kicked the bucket when my injured captain, who I specifically told to go to sickbay almost an hour ago, pretty much told me to go fuck myself when he didn't show up," McCoy snapped as he peered around the room in disgust. "And Jesus, Jim! Don't you have a yeoman? This room looks like a tornado came through it!"

Jim shrugged nonchalantly and proceeded to scavenge the floor for something to wear. "I gave Rand the week off. Sue me," he replied in monotone as he bent over to go through a pile of questionable looking shirts. McCoy winced at how detached he sounded. Before, he could always count on Jim to come back with some kind of a whiny argument. Not anymore though.

"I'd say she's had more than a week off. That dish on your nightstand looks like it's a month old for Christ's sake!" McCoy retorted as he came a little closer to inspect Jim's physical condition while the man had his shirt off. It was hard enough to get the man into Sickbay, so he might as well use his time wisely, and examine Jim discreetly. He didn't like what he saw.

For one thing, Jim was _way_ too thin. He was surprised the kid had any muscle left on him at all. His skin was pale, and gaunt looking. It was a stark contrast to how he looked six months ago. "When's the last time you've eaten Jim?" McCoy asked worriedly.

A heavy sigh reverberated throughout the room as Jim picked a black shirt up off the floor, inspected it minutely, and shrugged it on. The action heavily emphasized his rib bones.

"Look, if you've just come in here to fucking _mother hen_ me, you can turn right back around and leave. I'm not in the mood," Kirk said darkly.

McCoy felt his temper flare. "Dammit Jim! I'm a Doctor, not your mother, and I'm asking because you're starting to look like a damn skeleton!"

"Look, I'm not starving myself alright! I eat when I'm hungry!" Kirk retaliated.

"Which is never, by the looks of it!" McCoy yelled, exasperated. Jim's cheeks reddened, which appeared quite stark on his pale face, and rounded on McCoy.

"I'm functional aren't I? Just do what you came to do, and get out!" Kirk yelled, causing McCoy to wince at the harsh inflection in his tone. What the doctor said next was purely out of instinct.

"You know, you're starting to sound like Sp…" McCoy abruptly shut his mouth upon realizing what he was about to say. If there was one thing the crew had learned in the past five months, it was to _never_ mention a certain Vulcan in Jim's presence.

A dark look came over Jim as he narrowed his eyes. "Go ahead Bones, say what you were gonna say," he said in a deathly quiet voice, making McCoy run a hand nervously through his hair.

"Jim look, I didn't come here to fight with you."

Jim laughed coldly, and the sound of it made McCoy wince again. "Really? Could've fooled me."

McCoy didn't know why, but he was suddenly infuriated. Puffing his chest out, he stood taller and dared a few steps closer to the young captain.

"You know what? I am gonna fucking say it. _Spock_! You're starting to sound like Spock! You're starting to act like him with your," McCoy paused and shook his head as he searched for the right words which seemed only to want to abandon him in his fury, "your fucking _cold-ass_ attitude towards _everyone_ on this floating bucket! Your snarky tone towards the people who go above and beyond the line of duty to keep this ship a-fucking-float! Your goddamn insistence that you don't need anyone's help! That you can do it all alone…" Oh he was on the warpath now, but apparently, so was Jim.

"So NOW we're insulting Spock?" Jim cut him off heatedly as he took a few steps closer to the doctor who was suddenly reminded of that day back in San Francisco when he'd been afraid that Jim was going to punch him. He didn't let it scare him though. If Jim was going to punch him, fine. He had to say this. It was a long time coming; five months coming, to be precise.

"God_dammit_ Jim! I'm not insulting Spock! You're missing the whole fucking point! Spock was Vulcan! That behavior was normal for him! But it's not for you! Don't you understand that?" McCoy bellowed, resisting the urge to pull at his hair.

"What the fuck am I supposed to be understanding here Bones!"

"That you don't have to go through this alone!"

Silence. Finally.

"I know you're in pain kid. God I fucking know you are, but you've got to snap out of it! You're the Captain of a Starship!"

Jim averted his gaze to the floor, but his nostrils were still flared in anger.

"I know what I am…"

McCoy rolled his eyes in frustration and chanced closer to the captain until he was an arm's length away. "No, listen to me! You could've died down there today! It's like…I don't even fucking know, like you _want_ to die or something!"

Jim looked up at him with an unnamed emotion, and McCoy felt his blood run cold as his worst fear was confirmed. _Goddamnit Spock, _he thought bitterly as he watched the anguished expression flit across his friend's face.

"Dammit Jim…" McCoy commented in nearly a whisper as he tried to come to terms with what he'd just confirmed. Across from him, the captain turned his face away as if he was about to cry and was ashamed to do it in front of him. Knowing Jim, he probably was.

Completely forgetting his anger and annoyance, McCoy rushed forward and drew the broken man into an embrace. They had just done this, six months ago, but it obviously hadn't been enough. Maybe it never would. "Damn you, Jim," he breathed into the nape of Jim's neck. He dare not insult Spock at that moment again.

"I'm sorry Bones, it's just," Jim paused as an errant sob escaped, "it's not the same! I thought…I thought I could do this without him, but I can't!" He cried as he sunk further into McCoy's embrace. The doctor felt hot tears leak through his shirt, and gripped the man tighter as a result.

"Jim, Jim listen to me," he started as he leaned out of the embrace and grasped the man firmly by the shoulders to better face him. The broken expression in Jim's eyes was utterly heartbreaking, and McCoy had to take a deep breath to keep his own tears from overwhelming him. "You're right. It's not the same, and it never will be. You loved Spock, and a thing like that isn't easy to replace."

Jim stiffened under his hands. "He's not _replaceable,_ Bones," he said a little defensively.

McCoy hurriedly shook his head. "No no, that's not what I meant. Of course he's not replaceable Jim, but what I'm sayin' is…" McCoy paused. _Just what the fuck do I want to say? _"What I'm saying is, just because you've hit rock bottom, doesn't give you the right to just give up. To just lay down on the floor and die."

"That's easy for you to..."

"What, for me to say?" McCoy cut him off. _Time to change tactics. _"And what would Spock say, Jim?" He'd let go of the captain's shoulders now, but kept his gaze firm. He needed to say this, and Jim needed to hear it. "You think he'd approve of what you're doing to yourself? Of these suicidal missions you keep putting yourself on? You sit up in that Captain's chair, day in and day out, but you're not really there, and everyone knows it. What do you think Spock would say about that?"

More silence, so McCoy soldiered on. "I'll tell you what he'd say, he'd say to get your shit together and live your life," McCoy deadpanned before considering something, "maybe not in those _exact_ words, but I'm really not that far off am I?"

Jim looked up at him, a thoughtful expression on his face.

_Well, at least he's not angry anymore. _

"Now I'm saying this on his behalf, and as your best friend. Come back to us. Your ship needs you, Jim." McCoy gripped his friend tightly on the shoulder again, and gave him a reassuring squeeze. Jim smiled up at him, and while it was the weakest smile he'd ever seen on the kid, it was at least a fucking smile. It was a start.

"I can't promise anything Bones, but I promise you, and _him_, that I'll give it my best shot," he answered sincerely.

McCoy sighed in relief. _Finally we're getting somewhere._

"That's all I'm askin' here, and if I know you, you're _best shots_ are pretty fucking spot on, so I'm not too worried," McCoy pointed out with a smirk, causing Jim to chuckle lightly. It was a weak chuckle, but again, it was a start. "Now, put on some pants before this gets more awkward than it already is, and come with me to sickbay so we can mend that wrist." McCoy finished as he proceeded to look at _anything_ that wasn't the towel wrapped around his Jim's naked ass.

Jim blushed slightly. "Right. Pants," he stuttered as he resumed searching the disaster zone that was his floor for a pair.

((oOo))

Kirk couldn't believe it, but he actually felt better after Bones' _pep talk_. Sure, he was still pretty fucking miserable, but he no longer felt like he did before. Life might still suck, but he owed it to Spock to give it his best shot. And, he at least owed it to his ship to keep fighting the good fight, as hard as it was going to be.

When he waltzed onto the Bridge at the beginning of Alpha shift the next day, he smiled, _actually smiled, _at Uhura who was the first one to turn and greet him. It took her a couple of seconds to actually comprehend that yes, he was indeed smiling, before shooting one of her own back at him. _Damn, when __**was**__ the last time I smiled? _

He hadn't really noticed how much of a zombie he'd turned into over the past five months until he strolled up to Chekov in the middle of the shift, and clapped him on the shoulder to commend him on his job performance. The kid looked like he might actually start hyperventilating from the contact while the rest of the bridge just stared at him wide-eyed. Then, at one point later on in the shift, he decided to tell a joke. It wasn't even a _good_ one, but apparently just the fact that he'd told one was enough to cause everyone to whip their heads around and gape at him. Damn, had he really been that withdrawn?He owed Bones a drink later for bringing his head back above water.

Gary however, was apparently still pissed off at him for yesterday's events, because every time they talked to each other on the bridge, which was as little as possible. If Kirk had it his way, they would never fucking talk, but Gary was his XO and his short, curt tone was bordering on insubordination. Gary had never liked taking orders from him. And, even though Kirk had expected his behavior, it was unacceptable.

After one particular short, clipped retort, Kirk was just about to call him on his bullshit when Uhura spoke up from her station.

"Captain, I've got an incoming message from Starfleet Command."

_Oh joy, _he internally scowled.

"On screen, Lieutenant," he prompted as he sat straighter in his chair, Gary moved to stand behind him, making him tense slightly. He didn't like Mitchell so close to him in any sense of the word, but he couldn't really do anything about it without making a scene in front the Brass. God, he _really_ didn't want to deal with fucking Command right now.

Five seconds later, the dark features of Admiral Cartwright filled the screen, his gaze scrutinizing every face on the bridge.

Kirk smiled brightly, his own way of mocking these assholes.

"Admiral Cartwright! What can the Enterprise do for your today?" Kirk asked sarcastically, causing Gary to clear his throat behind him. He obviously didn't approve of Kirk's sarcasm. Like he gave a shit. Out of all the admirals beside Covington, Cartwright was definitely not on his list of favorites. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he just got a bad vibe from the guy.

Cartwright narrowed his eyes as he circled in on Kirk.

"Captain Kirk, I've got new orders for you."

_Obviously._

"I'm all ears, Admiral."

The crew exchanged nervous glances with one another. Kirk had always been slightly mouthy with the higher ups, but it wasn't until Spock had died that he was openly disrespectful. Cartwright looked like he wanted to call him on his mouth, but ignored it.

"You are to report to Starbase twenty-three to pick up supplies, after which you will set a course for New Vulcan to deliver said supplies," he said crisply, and inside Kirk felt dread. The last thing he wanted to do was go to New Vulcan. The last thing he needed was a whole fucking planet to remind him of what he'd just lost. His dread wasn't lost on the admiral, who smirked at him.

"Given your…_fondness_ for Vulcans, I figured you were the best man for the job," Cartwright went on to explain rather sardonically, causing some of his bridge crew to gasp quietly. Sulu had actually turned all the way around in his chair to stare worriedly at his Captain, obviously unsure about Kirk's reaction given his _emotional_ distress as of late. Kirk couldn't blame him, he was afraid of his own reaction as well. How _dare_ this asshole even reference his feelings for Spock. Fucking dick.

"Well, you would know all about that wouldn't you, _Sir_?" Kirk retorted bitterly, causing Gary to sigh in exasperation behind him. If there was one person on this ship who still held the Admiralty in high regard, it was Gary Mitchell. Of course, Komack himself _had_ appointed him. Go fucking figure.

"Watch your tone, Kirk," the admiral seethed before continuing. "I'll be sending further information regarding your cargo over a secure channel after I cut this connection. You have your orders. Carry them out," Cartwright finished firmly and Kirk gritted his teeth.

"Yes sir, Kirk out."

He then signaled to Uhura to cut the connection, and as the screen darkened into the starry view of space again, he let out a string of curses before hitting the intercom button on his chair.

"Bridge to Mr. Scott," he said into it. There was few seconds before a Scottish accent sounded through.

"Scott 'ere Cap'n."

"Looks like we're getting sent on a milk run, I want you to make sure our Cargo Bay is nice and clean in order to receive the shipment. I'll send you more information as I receive it."

"Aye Cap'n! Scott out."

That done, Kirk rounded on Uhura who still looked pissed about the admiral's rudeness.

"Lt. Uhura, send me that information Cartwright was babbling about. I'm sure he's sent it by now."

"Yes Captain." The two shared a glance which spoke of just what they both felt about Cartwright before she turned in her chair and got to work. "Sending now Captain," she confirmed as Kirk _finally _turned to Chekov and Sulu.

"Mr. Chekov, plot a course to Starbase twenty-three, Sulu, put her at warp six, let's punch it."

Simultaneously two, "Aye Captains," and a, "Eii, keptin!" sounded from the helm and navigation stations just as Kirk's PADD beeped, signaling that he'd received the information about the cargo. Opening it up, he saw that said Cargo was merely medical and some engineering supplies. Literally _any _ship could ferry this shit, but lo and behold, the Enterprise was the one that got selected. They weren't even anywhere _near_ New Vulcan!

Errantly Kirk wondered if someone on the planet had anything to do with it, as in a pointy-eared someone. Elder Spock, or, Ambassador Selek, as he called himself now days, had relentlessly sent him dozens of messages over the past six months, but he'd ignored every single one of them. It wasn't that he didn't like the guy. Hell, before _his_ Spock had died, he considered Selek a close friend. Every time he wanted to bitch about Spock, and Bones wasn't in the mood, he commed up the Elder version to vent. It was sort of like telling a person to their face all the problems you had with them, but not really. Elder Spock for the most part, just looked amused with most of Kirk's complaints, but sometimes he offered some pretty damn good insight into the Vulcan's inner workings. Insight, without which, Kirk might not have made the headway that he had with his Spock.

_For all the fucking good it did me._

Now though, just thinking about talking to the Elder Spock was painful. Like he said, he wasn't _trying_ to be rude or anything, he just didn't think he could stand to look at the face that could've been his Spock's own face years and years from now. _Should've been Spock's own face years and years from now._

He honestly doubted whether or not he could make it through a single conversation with the Ambassador without breaking down into tears. How fucking embarrassing would that be? Bombarding the Vulcan with his rampant emotionalism.

Suddenly Kirk didn't want to be on the bridge anymore.

"Chekov, What's our ETA?" he asked as he got up from his chair.

"ETA in sewen hours and twenty-one meenits, Keptin."

"Thank you Mr. Chekov, Mr. Mitchell, you have the conn. Let me know when we get to Starbase twenty-three," He said brusquely, ignoring the slight glare from the other man at his short formality. It was still mind-blowing to Kirk that he'd let this guy fuck him once upon a time, and when he said 'fuck him' he meant hardcore, sometimes painful, rough sex. What he'd been thinking back then he'd never know.

"Yes _Captain," _Gary retorted sourly and crisply as he sat in Kirk's now vacated chair. It was so _wrong_ to see Gary in _his_ chair, but there was nothing he could do about it. Well, he could fit in a quick drink in Bones' office, which would certainly help.

((oOo))

After picking up the cargo from Starbase twenty-three, the Enterprise had already been en route to New Vulcan for two weeks. Two very awkward weeks as far as Kirk was concerned. Being that their destination _was_ what it was, it seemed like the majority of the crew was walking around on eggshells the entire time, afraid that one slip-up would cause their captain to go off like a phaser. At first it was kind of weird, after a day of it though, it simply became downright annoying. Jesus, it wasn't like he'd faint if someone said the word _Vulcan _in front of him. Fuck.

"Do you actually _remember _how you were the past four months?" Bones asked him as the two strolled into the mess hall three days out from New Vulcan. For a moment everyone looked up to stare at him in disbelief. Obviously they still weren't used to him actually, you know, _eating_ in there anymore.

"I wasn't that bad was I?" Kirk asked as he replicated himself a sandwich, promptly ignoring the blatant staring. In the land before time, he would've ordered some fries too, but he still hadn't gotten his appetite back all the way yet. Hell, the sandwich was pushing it even.

The look on Bones' face at his question was all he needed to know.

"Okay okay, I get it…I was a little depressed."

"Don't forget suicidal, that's a pretty big part."

Kirk looked around the room in alarm as he shushed the doctor. It wouldn't be good for crew morale to know that their captain actually yearned to join Spock in the afterlife. He'd never admitted that to Bones come to think of it, but obviously his best friend was fairly perceptive; _interesting._

"Keep your voice down Bones!" Kirk hissed at the man as they hunted for a spot with their eyes. Gary was sitting on the left side of the mess hall with a few men from security, laughing it up and having a gay old time. The two met eyes, and Gary gave him a seductive wink.

_What the fuck?_ Jim internally backtracked. The last time Gary had looked at him like that had been back at the Academy. Why the fuck was he doing it now?

To say that Kirk was enraged by the gesture was an understatement as he brushed passed Bones who protested his annoyance at being rudely bumped out of the way, and made a beeline for the farthest table away from Gary Mitchell.

"The fucking nerve of that asshole," Kirk hissed as he slammed his tray down audibly, causing the science geeks from the next table over to look at him questionably. "Sorry," he said halfheartedly as he sat himself down. Seconds later Bones joined him.

"What the hell was that Jim?" Bones asked, obviously wondering why his friend was suddenly so mad.

"It's nothing Bones," Kirk tried, and failed to shrug it off as he stared down at his sandwich.

"Nothing my ass. I saw you lookin' at Gary, Jim," and here Bones leaned across the table and narrowed his eyes, "you're not getting involved with that guy again, are you?" he asked in a lowered voice.

Kirk, who had already taken a bite of his sandwich, very nearly spit the damn thing out.

"What the fuck Bones? _GOD _no!" Kirk yelled, unable to control himself at the utter repulsion that the accusation brought on. This time, a group a small group of engineers joined in the stare off with the science geeks. Kirk blushed slightly as he leaned in towards Bones, and fought to keep his voice down. "Why would you even think that?" he asked in a hushed whisper, completely flabbergasted by the question, and a little hurt that his friend could think he would just get over Spock that easily and move right back to Gary.

Okay, so he never actually told Spock how he felt, but just because he died, didn't mean Kirk stopped loving him. He would _never _stop loving the Vulcan.

"Look don't get your panties in a twist, Jim. I've just noticed some hostility between you two, and I happened to catch that look he just gave you. I didn't like it," Bones said in disgust as he took a bite from his hoagie, and sat back in his seat. Kirk mimicked the motion.

"Well, that makes two of us Bones. Trust me. That mistake will _never_ happen again, and definitely not on this ship or in this lifetime," Kirk assured him with a hint of finality. He then took another bite from his sandwich to appease the doctor, who was currently looking at the sandwich and back at him as if to say, '_you better finish that, or I'll force the shit down your throat.' _It tasted weird in his mouth after six months of basically living on protein bars and nutrition hypos just to stay alive. 

"Just be careful around him Jim. I don't trust him," Bones cautioned again, making Kirk sigh. _That makes two of us, which kinda blows since you're supposed to be able to trust your first._ He really wished the doctor would just drop the subject now. It was giving him another headache.

"Okay. I get it Bones. Can we move on?" Kirk spat as Bones rolled his eyes.

"Well excuse me Jim for being a little protective here. You're pretty vulnerable right now."

Instantly the sandwich dropped from Kirk's hand and back down onto the plate, pieces of it spilling out.

"Vulnerable? You're fucking kidding me," he stated in disbelief. Just because he was emotionally torn to pieces right now didn't mean he'd just let anything with two legs have a go at his dick. Seriously? Did Bones think he was that desperate? Did Spock ever think this? _God, I hope not. _

Bones obviously realized he screwed up because he was blushing furiously. "Dammit Jim, that's not what I meant."

"Really then, so what part of that sentence doesn't call me out as a manwhore."

"Look," Bones swallowed and looked at Kirk sadly, "I was there when you and Gary…" he let his voice trail off awkwardly, "when you guys were together, and I remember what he did to you Jim. I was there to pick up the pieces remember? And I sure as fuck remember how you let him treat you, like you were nothing but a trophy out in public, and a walking mat behind closed doors. So forgive the fuck out of me if I don't get a little antsy when he gives you an _I wanna fuck your brains out_ look!" Bones hissed as loudly as he could without drawing unwanted attention, and after thinking about it, Kirk saw his point. Looking back on it now, he _did_ let Gary get away with a lot of shit. _A lot_.

"Look, I'd rather not talk about this shit right now," Kirk argued tiredly. And it wasn't a lie. He really didn't want to dredge up a past that he'd rather just forget altogether.

Bones seemed to get the dismissal if the resigned look on his face was anything to go by. "Alright Jim, but if he starts making trouble for you, just let me know, I'll hypo his ass into next week if I have too."

Kirk laughed at the image, and he wouldn't doubt Bones for a second on making good on it.

"That's something I'd like to see, though I'd have to cite regulation," Kirk joked as he tried to make light of the situation. Just as he was taking another bite of his sandwich, Uhura, Sulu, and Chekov came to sit down beside them.

His eyes widened in surprise. "Jesus! Is _anyone _up on the bridge right now?" Kirk exclaimed as he gaped at his senior bridge crew.

Uhura narrowed her eyes playfully at him. "It _is _just the beginning of Beta shift, Captain, and since we're going to New Vulcan, the roster has been pretty forgiving these past two weeks," she stated as she began to dig into what was apparently a fruit salad. Kirk felt his heart pang. Spock always liked fruit salads…

"No complaints here, I've actually gotten some down time to help tend the Andorian Posyveintas I picked up at Starbase twenty-three, and they are coming along nicely," Sulu added through a mouthful of some kind of rice and vegetable. Kirk raised an eyebrow, grateful for a distraction from his angsty musings.

"Oh? And how is the Enterprise's greenhouse coming along Sulu?" Kirk asked innocently, and for the first time in a long time, he was actually interested in the answer. For a moment Sulu just stared at him, as if he hadn't been expecting Kirk to actually make small talk with him. Kirk instantly felt guilty. He really hadn't meant to treat his crew like they didn't exist. It wasn't fair and they didn't deserve it.

Bones, who'd been sitting beside the helmsman, elbowed him lightly, bringing the man back to his senses.

"Oh, oh it's doing great Captain! You should come down and see it when you've got a chance. Almost everything is in season so it's pretty vibrant right now!" Sulu answered enthusiastically. Kirk smiled at him as he took another bite of his sandwich.

"Well, I'm sure I'll have plenty of downtime once we get to New Vulcan. I'll come have a look then," Kirk said nonchalantly, missing the frown on both of Bones' and Uhura's faces.

"Are you not…won't you be going planet side, Captain?" Uhura probed him nervously, causing Kirk's smile to drift south into a frown. Everyone held their breath at the question, and looked everywhere but Kirk. Well, except for Bones, who was gazing intensely at him. He knew that Spock, the _other _Spock, the _alive_ Spock, the one with a heart-beat, was probably expecting him to come down and visit. Especially if the numerous. still unread messages from the Vulcan were anything go by. But Kirk just didn't see himself leaving the Enterprise at all during this mission. It wasn't like his presence would be required. This wasn't a diplomatic mission.

"I don't see why I'd have to beam down or anything. We're just dropping off cargo, my crew can handle that," he answered as if it would be obvious; he wished they'd change the subject though.

"Well…yeah they can, but isn't there someone, anyone you wanna see? According to the ass load of messages blowing up my personal terminal, there's obviously someone who wants to see you. Won't leave me the hell alone about it actually," Bones interceded.

_Fucking A Bones, _Kirk thought as he rolled his eyes and stood abruptly from the table, causing his comrades to flinch at his brusqueness. So the old bastard was bugging his CMO too? Jesus could he not take a hint?

"Look. I'm not going down to that planet!" He yelled, exasperated, which led to half the mess hall halting mid-meal to stare at him. Kirk ignored them, but lowered his voice as he addressed his friends again. "So quit wasting your time trying to convince me." _I can't take seeing that face right now…no matter who it belongs too, _he thought to himself silently as he turned away from the table, promptly ignored the inquisitive gaze of his First Officer, deposited his tray in the waste bin, and left the room.

When they finally, _finally, _got to New Vulcan, Kirk stayed true to his word and stayed on the ship. If the crew in charge of transporting the cargo down thought it strange that their usually hands-on captain didn't want to partake in said transportation, they didn't say anything. To get his mind off the world below him, Kirk made good on his promise to Sulu and went to take a look at his ship's Botany Lab.

To say his helmsman was excited that Kirk was in the lab had been an understatement.

"Captain! I wasn't expecting you down here today sir!" Sulu gleefully stated and rushed over to him as soon as Kirk entered the lab. Kirk fought the impulse to remind him that he _had_ in fact said he would come down when the ship came into orbit around New Vulcan.

That big stupid smile on the Asian's face made Kirk feel warm inside. To think his crew could get this excited about him visiting their departments. He made a mental note to do this more often, with _all_ the varying departments on the Enterprise. It would probably be good for morale.

"Well, here I am Mr. Sulu, and I must say, this place looks awesome! You did all this yourself?" Kirk asked in a bewildered tone as he studied the room. He'd expected a few plants here and there, maybe even a tree or two, but a literal Garden of Eden he was not expecting. The place was beautiful to say the least. There had to be at least a few hundred differing species of fauna littering the room, giving it a magical atmosphere. If Spock was here, there was no doubt in Kirk's mind that the Vulcan would have been fascinated by the sheer beauty of it all.

_If he was here..._

Sulu beamed at him, overcome with pride at his captain's compliment. "I can't take full credit captain. There are quite a few of us tending to this lab, I merely man a few shifts a week." Sulu answered with chagrin as he ran a hand through his black hair.

Kirk smiled in amusement at him. "I'm sure you do more than just _man_ a few shifts. Rumor has it you've got a regular green thumb," Kirk goaded him, causing the man to blush furiously.

"Ah, well thank you captain, that means a lot. I'm supposed to be getting some new specimens from New Vulcan while we're here."

Kirk frowned, but only for a moment. He hadn't heard about this. Then again, it was only a plant exchange, it's not like it was something he really _needed_ to know, was it? Yet, he couldn't help voicing his curiosity with a hint of bitterness.

"When is this supposed to happen?" He blurted out. They might be plants, but he still had to a right to know what was coming and going on his ship. Sulu looked momentarily confused, and then just plain wary. Kirk didn't like that expression.

"Uh…sometime today I think? I was sure Dr. McCoy would've told you, he's the one who told me anyways…" _Ah…now it made sense, _Kirk thought in annoyance as Sulu's voice trailed off. Bones was obviously plotting something. He could feel it.

"Captain? Sir? Have I done something wrong?" Sulu probed cautiously at the growing look of consternation on Kirk's face. Instantly Kirk shook his head.

"No. No, Mr. Sulu, I was just thinking about something. But there are some things I need to attend to, if you'll excuse me?" He stated professionally. _Bones was about to get an earful from him._

A flash of relief crossed the helmsman's face, but he still looked a little but wary. No doubt for Bones' sake. "Of course Captain! Thanks again for stopping by!"

"No problem Sulu, once again, the place looks fantastic."

About twenty minutes later found Kirk pacing the hallways of the Enterprise, searching for his doctor friend. He wasn't in sickbay, the bridge, or in his quarters.

"Computer, locate crewmember: Leonard McCoy," he spoke impatiently into a comm. panel on the wall.

"_Dr. McCoy; current location; transporter room," _The panel responded robotically, and Kirk was instantly confused. Why would Bones be in the transporter room? The cold, sinking feeling in his gut told him that he already knew, and, with closed eyes, he sighed deeply. His expression quickly became annoyed as he plowed on down to the transporter room, thoroughly pissed off. If Bones had gone and done what he thought he'd done…

As soon as Kirk strode into the room in question, all the blood rushed from his face, for there stepping off the pad with a potted plant in his aged hands…was Spock.

The two looked sharply over at Kirk once they'd realized he'd entered the room. All conversation instantly died as the trio stared intently at one another. Bones looked like he'd swallowed a fly, and Spock, well…Kirk wasn't sure what to make of his expression. His own expression however must have been a sight, given the reaction of the room at large. The two officers who had been manning the transporter controls glanced nervously at one another. They had no idea who this Vulcan was, but apparently he was someone important. 

"Jim." The painfully familiar baritone voice sounded softly from across the room. Just the simple sound of his name held such warmth and longing in it that Kirk thought his knees might give out. For a moment, all he could do was stand there and stare at Spock, who although older, was _so_ much like the Vulcan he'd lost.

Bones shifted awkwardly at the prolonged silence, obviously unsure of what to say. Spock however, decided to use the moment to edge closer to the captain who instantly started backing away, effectively torn from his reverie.

"No. You just stay there," Kirk warned shakily, his heart thudding murderously in his chest.

"Jim…" Bones started sympathetically, but Kirk wasn't having it. The fucker betrayed him.

"Don't you _even _Bones! I can't believe you! I thought I made it perfectly clear to you that I didn't want…that I couldn't fucking see him right now!" Kirk bellowed, ignoring the shocked expressions on the bystanding officer's faces, which probably didn't even know what the fuck was going on. Not very many people knew who Ambassador Selek _really _was.

But Bones sure did…

"Jim! He just wants to talk to you!" Bones attempted in a frustrated tone. Spock, he noticed, watched the scene thoughtfully.

"I don't wanna talk! If I wanted to talk, I would've beamed my ass down there!" Kirk continued to rant, his face thoroughly flush with anger. He knew he was over reacting, but if he didn't play up his anger, he'd succumb to the utter despair currently fighting its way to the surface. Who would've thought that this older version of Spock would have such a profound effect on him?

"Jim. If you would allow me a few moments…" The older Spock began, but that was all he was able to manage before Kirk threw his hand up, effectively silencing him. Jesus he couldn't even _listen_ to the Vulcan without almost breaking down in tears. What the fuck?

"No. No, I can't do this. I can't fucking do this! Don't you understand?" He yelled at the room at large before turning around and dashing out into the hallway. He didn't know how many people he shoved out of his way in his haste to shut himself up in his quarters, and he didn't care. All he wanted to do was seal himself off. Which was why he didn't notice when he ran into the one person he really didn't want to talk to right now.

"Jesus Jim, you wanna watch where you're going?" the familiar scolding tone of Gary Mitchell sounded as Kirk collided with him on his way around a corner. He inwardly groaned. The last person he wanted to see in this state was fucking Gary Mitchell.

"M'sorry," Kirk grumbled half-heartedly as he made to move past the man, but firm arms grasped his shoulders, effectively halting him.

"Man Jim, you look like you've seen a ghost! What the hell happened? We don't have a Casper on board do we?" His First asked him in mild amusement. Kirk resisted the urge to punch him in the face. That was just like Mitchell, to make fun of the situation. He had been like that when the two had been involved as well…always downplaying Kirk's emotions like they didn't matter.

"Just get the fuck out of my way Gary," he seethed, his fists visibly shaking. _Is this what Spock felt when they insulted his mother? _Gary narrowed his eyes at the animosity in Kirk's tone, keeping his stance directly in front of him, blocking his path. Kirk clenched his eyes shut and sighed heavily. Again he regretted not picking another First Officer for himself.

"If I have to make it an order _Commander_, I will." Kirk threatened darkly, using his rank to assert his authority. If Gary looked annoyed before, he was visibly furious now as he took one step closer to Kirk, his eyes dark and challenging. Surely the asshole wouldn't dare try to start a fight with his captain. He wasn't that stupid was he?

"Very well, captain," Mitchell said, making it obvious to Kirk that he really _was_ that stupid_._ "But we both know who's got the…_authority _when it really matters," he whispered lecherously where none of the passing, obviously curious, crewmembers could hear him. There was one Vulcan though who could.

"I believe, Mr. Mitchell, that you were asked to step aside. You should endeavor to complete that request," the surprisingly stern voice of Ambassador Selek, Spock, sounded from behind him. Obviously the Vulcan, and most likely Bones, had caught up with him since he'd been shootin' the shit with _First Officer Dickhead_ in the hallway here.

Mitchell looked shocked for a brief moment at the older Vulcan's obvious hostile familiarity with him, but it was only for a fleeting moment. Then, he just looked pissed and annoyed.

For a moment Kirk thought Gary would insult the older Vulcan, and he half wished he would just so he could have an excuse to reprimand him for his treatment of a diplomat, but obviously Gary remembered his place and position, because he settled for a hard glare and a pursing of the lips.

"Captain," Mitchell nodded stiffly to Kirk before moving to pass around him, his shoulder just barely brushing with Kirk's. It was unnecessarily close, but Kirk was just happy the man had finally gotten out of his way.

Without turning around, Kirk huffed in annoyance. "I could've handled him on my own," he gritted out.

"I have no doubt that you could have, Jim." The Vulcan said back, making Kirk inhale sharply at the way the baritone voice said his name. It sent chills down his back.

"Jim, what the hell? I thought he wasn't bothering you?" Bones chided in, and Kirk knew he couldn't ignore the pair anymore. He turned around and fixed Bones with his best glare.

"He's not. He was just in my way, and taking his sweet time to get _out of my way_," Kirk explained sternly. Bones raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to probably throw back some kind of retort, but the older Spock beat him to it.

"Captain, Jim, I know you do not desire it, but I would very much like to speak with you."

Kirk laughed hollowly. "Yeah. I couldn't tell that by the ship load of messages you sent."

"Which have gone unread."

"Your point?"

"Jim." Bones admonished him, his tone strikingly parental in nature. "I'm sure the computerized hob-goblin has something important he needs to say," he furthered, and Kirk felt his face heat up at the insult.

"Don't talk about him like that!" Kirk snapped before he could stop himself. Bones flinched at the hostility in his tone and a deep expression of hurt came across his face. Kirk felt instantly guilty. Since when did he get so upset at Bones' clever little nicknames for Spock? God he was worse off than he thought.

"I took no offense Jim. In fact, I find the doctor's vernacular quite…refreshing. He was very much the same in my own universe," Spock stated as he looked warmly at Bones who was openly gaping at the Vulcan. This might have been a different Spock than his own, but the look of fondness in the older Vulcan's eyes was unmistakable. Painfully, he wondered if given enough time, his own Spock would have come to harbor such friendly affection for the doctor.

"Look, I'm sorry Bones. I didn't mean to snap at you," Kirk apologized sheepishly as he ran a hand through his hair. Bones smiled at him, but he still looked slightly guarded.

"It's okay Jimbo. No one knows better than me how hard this has been on you. I'll just…leave you two to some privacy. I've got a shitload of paperwork to do anyways," Bones said as he glanced warily between the two before departing on down the hallway. Kirk watched him go, because in doing so, he didn't have to look at Spock who was no doubt still gazing at him with that stare of his. There were several, awkward moments where no one said anything.

Finally, Kirk broke the ice.

"I guess I should invite you into my quarters, we're attracting too much attention out here," Kirk sighed as he signaled for the Vulcan to follow him. It wouldn't do well for more rumors to be spread around the ship about his _emotional state._

"Thank you, Jim."

It didn't take them long to get to his door, and Kirk didn't miss the thoughtful look that the older Spock gave in the direction of what used to be his own Spock's personal quarters.

"I take it yours were the very same?" Kirk asked as he placed his hand on the panel outside his room to gain entrance.

"Indeed they were. It is…pleasing to see the ship again," Spock admitted with a hint of nostalgia. Kirk felt a hint of something akin to anger. His Spock would never experience nostalgia.

"I bet, especially since you were on it a lot longer than the other you," Kirk bit out bitterly and immediately regretted it. This Spock didn't deserve the attitude, yet he couldn't seem to control himself. Fortunately, at that moment the door opened, effectively hiding his guilt as he quickly walked inside, and as soon as Spock was through the door as well, it closed and Kirk turned to face the Vulcan.

"I'm sorry. That was uncalled for," he said sincerely without meeting the Vulcan's eyes. He didn't think he could bear to look into those brown, chocolaty eyes again.

"Do not apologize. Your statement was correct, I was on my own Enterprise for a significantly longer period of time," Spock said with a hint of remorse, which caused Kirk to glance back up at him. Sure enough, the expression on the older Vulcan's face was definitely one of sadness. If possible, the room became ten degrees hotter instantly.

"Can I…get you anything from the replicator? Water? Hot Chocolate?" Kirk offered, trying to stem the awkwardness with politeness and a little bit of humor. Spock looked momentarily amused with his suggestion of chocolate, but otherwise shook his head.

"Negative. I am quite content."

_Okay. Time to cut past this bullshit_.

"So, obviously you wanted to talk to me, or you wouldn't have requested the Enterprise come all the way here from across the galaxy to deliver cargo that any other ship with half a nacelle could have done," he blurted out, causing the Vulcan to raise an eyebrow. "I'm not wrong am I? You were the one who requested the Enterprise right?"

A brief, guilty look flitted across the aged Vulcan's face causing Kirk to stall again. He wasn't used to Vulcans being so expressive. Even his own Spock wasn't this expressive. _Perhaps he would've been though…in time. _

"You are correct. I did request the Enterprise for the mission, and I do offer my apologies, but I saw no other way of speaking with you since you have ignored my eighty-nine messages that I have sent you." Spock stated in a matter-of-fact tone, making Kirk blush with chagrin. Sighing heavily, Kirk moved over to the chair behind his desk and took a seat, his hand placed lazily out in front of him to indicate the chair across from him. Spock nodded in acknowledgment before taking his own seat.

"Look…I'm sorry I didn't respond, I've just, I've had a lot on my mind these past few months."

Spock regarded him thoughtfully, making Kirk inwardly squirm with nervousness.

"But I'm here now, so say what you need to say," he added with a touch of hostility. Spock blinked at him.

"I merely wished to…inquire as to your well-being. What you have lost, I know that it cannot have been painless for you."

Instantly anger coursed through Kirk. Seriously? He flew his ship halfway across the galaxy so that this…this Vulcan could offer up his condolences? The fuck?

"Are you telling me, that you diverted my ship so that you could check up on me? Is that what I'm hearing?" Kirk stated through gritted teeth, unaware that his fists had clenched. But before the Vulcan could respond, Kirk continued on, "and how would you know about _anything _that I'm feeling right now? You don't know me!" he sputtered as he abruptly stood, almost knocking the desk over. He didn't know why he was fucking angry. He just was. It was so wrong. So wrong on so many levels that someone who was dead, someone so close to him, was sitting right across from him, breathing and living. It wasn't fucking fair.

"Trust me Jim, I do know what you are feeling," and here the Vulcan averted his gaze to his hands, a nervous gesture? But what did he have to be nervous about?

"I lost my own Jim many years ago. The way in which it happened was…unsettling to say the least," Spock went on to admit, and Kirk wondered if he'd just learned some deep dark secret. Obviously the Vulcan wasn't accustomed to sharing something so personal. With anyone. Of course he assumed that the James Kirk of this Spock's universe was dead, given that the Vulcan in front of him was well over one hundred years old. He didn't know, however, that the Vulcan was so affected by it, and obviously still affected by it. It didn't quell his anger though.

"It's not the same thing!" Kirk yelled as he paced away from the desk, Spock following him with his eyes.

"If you would explain?"

Kirk rounded on him defiantly, but his gaze softened as he took in the innocent expression on Spock's face. "You wouldn't understand," he answered solemnly. Sure the other Jim and this Spock were friends…best friends from what this Spock had told him on Delta Vega, but he doubted that they had been more than that. It was painful to lose a friend. He could understand that. But it was even more painful to lose the other half to your soul. For, after six months of agonizing turmoil, that's what Kirk realized Spock was to him. He had just realized it too late.

"I believe I would understand." Spock added quietly, and Kirk found himself becoming pissed again.

"No. No you wouldn't," he paused and narrowed his eyes at the Vulcan. "The James Kirk in your universe was your best friend. I get that. I really do. And I sympathize with you. But it's not the same. Spock was more than my friend." Kirk felt his throat burn with repressed tears as he gazed imploringly at Spock. "I loved him! Don't you understand that?" Kirk blurted out in exasperation before he could stop himself. He hadn't meant to reveal that to this version of the man he loved with every fiber of his being. But he wanted the Vulcan to know…to understand…

To his great and utter shock, the once docile Vulcan seated in front of him came to an abrupt standing position, his eyes daunting and hard. Kirk flinched at the pure emotion radiating in them. "What I felt for my Captain went far beyond the realm of friendship, James Kirk," he said sternly, which might as well have been the Vulcan equivalent of a yell. It caused Kirk to stumble backwards slightly at the rare force behind the tone. He had heard it several times out of his own Spock, but never from this one.

As if noticing his outlandish behavior, Spock closed his eyes and took a deep, uncharacteristic breath before continuing, Kirk hanging onto his every word. "I…loved my Captain. My Jim. My _T'hy'la._ There is not a day that goes by that I do not think of him. That I do not miss him. He was all that I am. So you see Jim, I do know how you feel, because I feel it every day," Spock continued in a much gentler tone.

What Kirk was feeling at that moment however, was anything but gentle. _I've gotta sit down. I've gotta sit down, _Kirk told himself as he staggered back over to his chair, groping the desk in his pursuit. Spock made to offer assistance but Kirk waved him off. He needed a moment. A moment to process the fucking revelation he'd just been landed with. Spock _loved_ him?

His eyes blurred slightly with moisture and he was aware he was breathing very rapidly. In another universe…Spock had loved him. Spock. Had loved him. He had been loved by the most beautiful and amazing person in the universe.

"Show me," Kirk managed weakly through his panting, and before he knew it, he was shooting out of his chair and towards the older Vulcan. "Please. Show me." Kirk begged as he took the older man's hands in his own, and placed them on his face where this Spock had done so long ago in that cave. Instantly a deep pang of heartbreak and sadness leaked through the link, and Kirk wasn't sure whose end it was coming from. Probably both.

"That is not wise Jim. I see that I have erred. I did not come here with the intention of revealing so much," Spock argued wearily as he retracted his hands, but Kirk wasn't letting him get off that easily.

"But you did reveal it to me! You can't take it back!" He sputtered angrily as a tear fell from his eye. Spock eyed the tear with deep sorrow and lifted his hand as if to wipe it away. However, his reach faltered and he placed the hand back at his side as he struggled to form a counter-argument.

"I would not show you things from your future," he added weakly.

Now Kirk _knew_ he was just grasping at straws.

"My future? What future? My future was fucked the minute Spock died! Whatever future I—_we—_had is gone Spock! It's fucking gone!" Kirk screamed as he pulled at his hair. The tears were falling freely now. His eyes burned with them.

"Then I do not see why you insist on seeing a future that is not yours."

He had a point; fuck it all if he didn't have a point, However, Kirk wanted to know anyway…wanted, needed, to see what his and Spock's life could have been had he not been taken away. He told himself that he would be content by knowing, that at least in one universe, he had gotten it right. That somewhere, Jim Kirk had not failed his Spock.

"I know it doesn't make sense, I just…I _need _to see. I need feel what you felt for your Jim. How much you loved him. I want to know…" Kirk pled, though he had already resigned himself to defeat. He was pretty sure now that the older Spock would not oblige him.

"What I felt, _feel_ for my Jim does not directly reflect on what my counterpart felt for you. In fact, it is possible that such a relationship might never have come to pass, even if he were still alive." The way the Vulcan phrased it told Kirk that he didn't believe what he was saying, but it didn't make it any less true as far as Kirk was concerned.

Kirk however, just stared at him for a few moments. "I know that," he said bitterly. Just because another Jim and Spock eloped in an alternate reality didn't mean that the same thing would've happened here. It didn't matter though. At least he'd find some small comfort in knowing it happened somewhere else. Spock continued to study him, as if trying to come to a decision. Kirk bowed his head in defeat.

"I know that my Spock might not have returned my feelings, hell, even I wouldn't return my feelings, but, you don't know how much it hurts inside, Spock! Sometimes it hurts to breathe! Every day, every night, I think about him. I think about how I failed him…"

"You did not fail him," Spock tried to cut in sternly, but Kirk continued on as if he didn't hear him. He needed to get this out or it would consume him.

"I think about his cold, lifeless body lying in some morgue somewhere, waiting to be incinerated. I think about how if I'd tried a little bit fucking harder…he'd be here, and then we could figure this thing out together. This, epic relationship," Kirk paused and glanced up at the Vulcan. "You ask why I didn't respond to your messages? Why I didn't wanna see you? I'll tell you why…" Kirk was on a roll now, he was going to let it all out.

"It's not fucking fair that you got to live your life and he didn't. It's not fair that you're standing here right now, telling me about a future that will never happen. About a love that will never come to pass. It's not fair that your hair is grey, and his will never be. And—no, no let me finish," Kirk bit out as Spock opened his mouth to say something, "I'm not mad at you…I could never be mad at you. _God!_ I'm mad at myself! Because somewhere, in another universe, another version of me, a better version, obviously succeeded where I failed. When I look at you…I see that failure and it's like a knife in my fucking heart! I couldn't measure up to my dad, and obviously, I can't even measure up to myself! I'm a fucking failure!" He finished, exasperated as he hung his head in his hands, mournful sobs racking his body as the fight went out of him. It was weird, but he felt slightly better now that he'd borne his soul. He hadn't even told Bones all of this! However, having Spock in front of him instead of Bones was a stark difference.

Before he could make sense of anything, aged but firm hands grasped his face to pull it upwards and he found himself looking into Spock's deep, soulful brown eyes. The Vulcan was gazing at him with such adoration and sadness that it nearly broke his heart.

"James Kirk. You are not a failure, in any universe," he spoke diligently as if desperate to get his point across.

Instinctively, Kirk leaned his face into the graceful hands, savoring the touch. It was so very different from the Spock he had known, yet the same.

"…And I will show you what you are," Spock continued as he shifted his hands on Kirk's face into a melding position, much like the last time the older Vulcan had done so. Kirk felt a surge of exhilaration wash through him as he pondered what was about to happen. "My mind to your mind…"

_My thoughts to your thoughts…one and together…_

Instantly Kirk felt the head rush of diving into someone else's mind, and having someone dive into his own mind, but it was pleasant and electrically exhilarating. Almost as if Kirk had been yearning for something like this his entire life. Strange, he hadn't felt that way about it last time the older Vulcan had done this. Then again, he hadn't exactly known what it was then either. He knew now, he had anticipated it, maybe that was the difference.

Lights, sounds, and colors glittered around him as he felt Spock's presence wrap itself around his own like a warm blanket. Kirk felt his mental presence lean into the embrace as if the Vulcan were a sponge and he was the water wishing to be devoured.

_I will show you what you are to me Jim…_Spock's voice resonated all around him, and despite the Vulcan's age, it sounded remarkably like his own Spock, young and strong in cadence.

Maybe when you were in your mind, you sounded different? Kirk didn't know, all he knew was that he latched onto that voice, willing to follow it anywhere; he had missed it so deeply.

Soon images of another life began circling around and through him. It was like a holovid, only much, much more detailed. Smells, thoughts, and tactile feelings spasmodically passed through him. It was like he was watching the memories, but also a part of them. It was surreal. He saw himself, albeit older and shaped differently by different life experiences, but it was him. He saw the Enterprise and her crew as she was in that other universe, and they were also different, yet the same.

There were _so many_ differences in the two universes, yet not that many at all. He could feel Spock's respect for his counterpart as it was in the beginning, and he watched and felt as that respect gradually turned into friendship and adoration as the time wore on. The memories did not come in whole sequences, probably Spock's attempt to keep Kirk from learning _too much_ about his future, but he was shown enough to understand and see just what the older Vulcan had meant when he eluded to the relationship that would spawn between them.

Kirk however, couldn't prepare himself for the strong, overwhelming sense of love that soared through the meld. It was the love that Spock had felt for his counterpart. Love that Jim, the Jim from that world, returned wholeheartedly. It was so strong and powerful, that for a moment Kirk thought he would be swept away by the sheer force of it. To think that Spock, this Spock could love someone that much! To think that _he could_ love someone that much!

_There is and was no other for whom I could love and cherish as much as you, Jim. _Spock's eloquent cadence sounded from all around him and suddenly Kirk felt the Vulcan's presence cling tightly to his metaphorical chest and waist, as if trying to tether him. Abruptly the meld ended and Kirk found himself being pulled back to reality. He reached out blindly for the presence, wanting, wishing for it to come back and bathe him in that warmth, that love, to tether him like it had been doing, but it didn't happen. The meld had ended.

Reality began to sink back in.

Strong arms steadied his shoulders as he tried to gather his bearings. Emotional transference. Right.

"I am sorry Jim, for the discomfort…your mind is…so very like his, I did not wish to compromise you," Spock stated gently and warily as Kirk fought to anchor himself back into his body. If he had been thinking clearly, he might've asked what that was supposed to mean, but he wasn't thinking clearly. He was currently suffering from a maelstrom of familiar and foreign emotions all currently rampaging within him.

"Breathe Jim. You must breathe," Spock chanted to him as he continued to clutch at his shoulders, obviously noting his struggle.

Kirk took his advice eagerly and tried to even out his erratic breathing. He could do nothing about the tears though. Spock hadn't been lying. He had loved him, did love him. And it was beautiful.

"You…he…" Kirk attempted vigorously as his mind still clung to what it had seen in the meld.

"Yes Jim. James Kirk was the other half of my soul, my _T'hy'la,_ and I have no doubts that my counterpart harbored the same sentiment," Spock said softly as he leveled his gaze at him, imploring him to believe him.

"But, how do you know?" Kirk shook his head through his tears, "you said yourself…"

"I do remember what I said Jim, but I find it…disquieting and doubtful that there would be a universe out there where Spock does not love Captain James T. Kirk. If I know myself like I believe that I do…he cherished you Jim."

Kirk broke on the word _cherish_ and threw his arms around the older Vulcan. Right now he needed the physical contact more than anything in the world. He needed the closeness of another Spock. He wanted it.

To his immense relief, the Vulcan allowed him this, and even reciprocated by wrapping his own slender arms around him and pulling him closer. The warm pressure of Spock's exhalation onto his hair told him that the Vulcan was resting his cheek against Kirk's head and breathing deeply. He felt warmer than he had in a long time. He felt safe. He felt loved.

"But you are not a failure Jim. If there is any fault to be had…it is mine. By coming to your timeline I have erroneously altered the future. Had I not come through the black hole, events would have played out like they were intended to. Vulcan would not be gone, mother would not be dead, your father would not be dead, and my counterpart would still be here," the Vulcan breathed into him, and Kirk clung to him tighter. Obviously they were both going to be sharing their guilt today, only this Vulcan's guilt was unwarranted. Sure, it would be easy to blame the guy, he did come back and change all their lives, but Kirk was a bigger person than that, and guilt was very unbecoming on this particular Vulcan.

"Don't say that Spock. S'not your fault. You were trying to save people. I would've done the same, and I know Spock would've done the same, don't blame yourself. Please." Kirk spoke into the Vulcan's chest before being gently pushed away.

"Then…I must ask you to do the same." Spock asked as he cupped Kirk's chin with one hand, and with the other, began wiping away his tears affectionately. Kirk couldn't make any promises, but he could try. He would try for Spock; for both of them.

"I promise to try," Kirk answered as he took the Vulcan's hands in his.

"That is all I ask Jim. However, I know from personal experience that when James Kirk endeavors to _try_, he usually succeeds," Spock smirked before stunning Kirk with a soft, gentle kiss on his forehead. The act was not sexual or forward, but gentle and loving, and Kirk relished in it. Perhaps, in time, he could forgive himself.

Out of nowhere Kirk suddenly felt very tired. His eyes became very heavy and he swayed where he sat. Spock looked at him knowingly before helping him to stand, and led him over to the bed.

With a giant yawn, Kirk let himself be led. "I'm sorry, suddenly I feel so tired," he yawned exhaustively.

The Vulcan nodded in understanding. "It is an effect of a truly intense melding. Typically, they are not that powerful; however, with the emotions experienced, as well as the memories, it is an unfortunate side-effect." Spock informed him somberly as he helped Jim remove his shoes, and pushed him gently back onto the bed.

Kirk felt he should protest the help. Really, he did have more work to do, but he wanted nothing more than to sleep. He was so tired.

The older Vulcan coaxed him under the comforter and before he could pull away, Kirk grabbed his wrist and beckoned him closer. "Stay with me? Until I fall 'sleep?" Kirk slurred as fatigue grabbed more diligently at him. Had he been more awake, he might have seen how inappropriate that question was, especially to a Vulcan. But this was Spock, and right now Kirk wanted him near. Needed him near, and he would take any version he could get.

"Of course Jim," the voice affirmed affectionately as Kirk began to shut his eyes. He felt the bed dip beside him as a new body made its' way onto it and under the covers. Instinctively, Kirk scooted himself closer to the Vulcan and buried his head in his chest, finding peace and contentment in the gesture. If Spock was offended, he made no move to eradicate himself from the situation.

"Hey Spock?" Kirk said sleepily, his eyes still closed. Before he slipped off into the unconsciousness, he wanted one thing answered.

"Yes Jim?"

"What does _T'hy'la _mean?"

There was a moment of pause before the Vulcan answered.

"It means: Friend, brother, and lover. In your vernacular, one would say soulmate."

"_T'hy'la…_I like that…" Kirk said in his dazed stupor as he snuggled closer to the Vulcan who was now running his fingers through the blond mess of hair.

"Sleep now, Jim." Spock encouraged warmly.

"_T'hy'la…" _was the last thing Kirk murmured before dozing off into the best sleep he'd had since Spock had been ripped from him. Looking back on it later, he would swear that the older Spock had had something to do with it.

((oOo))

Jim had been asleep for approximately two point four hours when Spock decided to take his leave. He debated staying until the captain regained consciousness, but thought better of it. For one thing, he was expected back on New Vulcan to finish overseeing the transfer of supplies, but more than that, he wished to process the emotions that this afternoon's encounter had sprung on him. The mind meld he had performed had been more intense than he had anticipated, and he did not wish to emotionally compromise the sleeping man more than he had already done.

Being as quiet as his Vulcan finesse allowed, Spock slipped from the room only to come face to face with the doctor.

"Dr. McCoy," Spock stated politely with in inclination of his head.

"Yeah yeah, is Jim still in there?" McCoy asked as he made to move around the Vulcan, but Spock put out a hand to stop him.

"He is asleep at the moment Doctor, and I dare say he requires it," Spock said as he leveled a gaze at the other man who looked quite shocked at the revelation.

"As-asleep? Damn, how'd you manage that?" Dr. McCoy asked in a bewildered tone. Obviously, the doctor had assumed that Jim would retain his hostility towards him.

"I have my ways Dr. McCoy, but if you wish to know more, you will have to inquire to the captain yourself, as I do not wish to break his confidence," Spock said with finality, making the other man scowl. Suddenly a wave of exhaustion swept over him, making him tremble slightly. Dr. McCoy noticed the tremble, and a second later was whipping out a tricorder and scanning him. Spock resisted the urge to smile at the gesture, which in another time, had happened so frequently.

"I see that some things do not change, you are just as persistent in this universe as my own," Spock said warmly.

Dr. McCoy laughed. "Yeah well, it's good to know that someone had their head on straight in your timeline. You feeling okay? Your readings are a little off…" McCoy mused with concern. Spock waved him down.

"I am adequate Doctor, I just find myself slightly fatigued. As I am sure you know, old age tends to produce this effect," Spock playfully argued, knowing how his own Dr. McCoy always reacted to his bantering. And his counterpart did not disappoint as he narrowed his eyes.

"Hmmm…like I really believe that, you did that voodoo stuff on him didn't you. That's why you're tired," Dr. McCoy accused as he pocketed his tricorder.

"As I already stated Doctor, you will have to inquire to Jim about the matter. I am not at liberty to '_air his personal laundry' _as the human saying goes…"

Dr. McCoy snorted but otherwise did not press the issue. He was not very far from the truth though, for just like Jim, he was starting to feel the beginnings of fatigue himself. He had not been prepared for the strength and vibrancy of Jim's mind, so much like his own Jim's, when he had initiated the meld. In fact, he very nearly did the unthinkable, and bonded them as he had done with his own James Kirk. It was so very easy in the midst of the pain and turmoil raging within both of them to cling to one another in hopes of quelling said pain. Spock missed his James, missed him dearly. But he had to remind himself that this was not his James, he could never replace his James, and he was mildly disgusted with himself that some small part of him had considered it.

"You damn evasive pointy-eared bastard," Dr. McCoy scowled, but Spock knew the man well enough to know there was not any hostility in his tone.

"Indeed Doctor, if you will excuse me? I will return to the surface," Spock furthered as he made to move around the human who was still scowling at him. He was only a few feet down the hallway when he suddenly remembered something. "Oh and Doctor?" Spock probed as he rounded back to the man.

"What?"

"I see that Mr. Mitchell is a crew member on board this ship." Spock pointed out, being sure to keep the disdain from his voice. He remembered Gary Mitchell all too well from his own universe. And more importantly, he remembered the pain he had caused his own Jim. It was not too hard to discern from the altercation he had witnessed in the hallway almost three hours ago, that things had not happened very differently in this reality.

Dr. McCoy's eyes darkened somewhat at the mention of Mitchell, only confirming Spock's suspicions. "Yeah, he's the goddamn First Officer," The man spat bitterly, causing a passing crewman to glance at him uneasily. Spock allowed himself a frown. Surely Jim had not chosen Mitchell for that position willingly…

"I told Jim to pick someone, but he waited around too long, and the brass did it for him."

_Ah, that explains it._

"That is…most unfortunate." Spock said with slight disdain.

Dr. McCoy raised an eyebrow. "Care to elaborate?" he added as Spock kept his silence. Spock had taken an oath not to interfere more than he already had with the Enterprise and her crew. However, he had already broken that oath earlier in Jim's cabin, and he could not keep himself from breaking it again here in the hallway.

"He is…dangerous, Dr. McCoy. I did not trust him in my own universe, I do not trust him now," Spock said darkly as he lowered his voice and stepped slightly closer to the doctor. That was all he would reveal, as there was a very small chance that things would play out exactly like they did on his own Enterprise.

"Well, would you look at that. Somethin' we actually agree on!" Dr. McCoy exclaimed. Spock raised an eyebrow. "I don't trust him either Ambassador, but we can't exactly kick him off the ship, he actually has to have, you know, _done something_ illegal," The doctor continued in a mocking tone.

"I understand that Leonard." Spock did not miss the way the man's eyes widened slightly at being referred to so personally. "However, since my counterpart is no longer here to do it, I must ask that you _keep an eye _on Mr. Mitchell."

Dr. McCoy looked visibly affronted.

"I may not be Jim's hobgoblin, but I _am_ his best friend. I've already had my eyes plastered to that son of a bitch since he got on this bucket."

"Of this I have no doubt. Your counterpart was also extremely close with the James Kirk in my universe. I know that no one will look after him as well as you Leonard, which is why I am discussing this with you at all," Spock explained, causing the man's hard scowl to falter slightly. As he already stated, the Spock of this world was gone. There was no one besides the man standing in front of him to watch over the young, exceedingly brash Captain.

"I uh…of course Ambassador, you don't have to tell me twice when it comes to that farm boy," Dr. McCoy said nervously, and that was satisfactory for the Vulcan.

"Very well. I shall take my leave now, Dr. McCoy, please tell the captain for me that before he leaves, I would find it quite pleasing to see him again before his departure. I believe my father would as well, though he would never admit as much."

McCoy peered at him sympathetically.

"How is the old Vulcan? I know he's got that heart condition."

Spock frowned again as the haunting image of his father pulled to the front of his mind. After the death of Amanda, Sarek had already been emotionally compromised. But after Spock's death, things seemed to descend quite negatively from there. His son's death had not been easy on Sarek. His resignation as Ambassador was a testament to that, and Spock could honestly say he was troubled by it. His father had never behaved this way in his own reality; therefore, he did not know how to deal with it.

"He is functional Doctor," Spock responded in a clipped tone. Dr. McCoy raised an eyebrow.

"That bad huh?"

Of course the human would see right through him.

"Spock's death has been…difficult for him to bear."

Dr. McCoy nodded to himself sympathetically. "I can understand that. I'll be sure to pass your message on to Jim. I'm sure he can make the time to pay the Vulcan a visit," he answered with understanding.

"Thank you, Doctor."

"Don't mention it."

And with that, Spock held up his hand in the _ta'al_. "Live long and Prosper Dr. McCoy."

"Yeah…we'll see…" Dr. McCoy scowled before turning and heading off down the hallway. Spock watched him go before making his own way to the transporter room and back down to the surface.

**A.N. Yes yes, I know I put Gary Mitchell in this, and just like a million of other people have done, made him an asshole...but we need some drama on Kirk's side you know? Also, this will be the last Kirk chapter at least for three or four more chapters, which will be Spock's POV. **

**What did everyone think? I cried writing this a little, because Spock Prime always gets to me a bit...I've got a soft spot for him. And yes, this chapter IS titled afte the song "what hurts the most" by rascal flatts...or cascada, whichever one you prefer haha**


	16. Points of Authority

**WARNINGS: GRAPHIC SEXUAL SITUATIONS (NON-CON)**

**Thank you my lovely lovely betas! Again...this story is about to take a darker turn, I know I put the XXXX in chapter 11, which was the last chapter with a scene like this, but I've got a lot of complaints about doing that because it ruins the flow of reading. So, just be warned, and if you don't want to read those scenes...just skip over them. **

**Also, if you don't like to be warned at all, you can read this story on Ao3 or KSarchive, because I don't warn at all over there. those sites aren't as sensitive as this one, but I will continue to warn on this site for those that might get offended! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek, but it'd be pretty fucking fantastic if I did. **

Chapter 16:

Points of Authority

**Stardate 2261.6**

**Doradus Prime:**

Spock did not even bother to tense his arm as the hypospray's sizeable needle pierced the flesh there. Unlike Dr. Stevens, who took every open opportunity to be as rough as possible while injecting him with hyposprays, Dr. Harken was surprisingly gentle while performing the same act.

Every single week had been the same for the past year, three months, and six days now for Spock; or, since he had arrived at Doradus Prime. Dr. Edison and his staff had endeavored to consistently collect blood samples from him, run endless amounts of varying tests and scans, and almost routinely injected him with some unknown substance that, more often than not, caused severe pain or discomfort. However, as the latter half of the year had approached, the doctors, to Spock's horror, had begun performing exploratory surgeries. What purpose these surgeries provided, Spock could not even begin to guess.

If he was not walking out of the dreaded room sporting a new incision, he was walking out of it severely exhausted, and barely able to stand. By now, he had become quite accustomed to his _'weekly'_ routine in the _Limbo Room_, and had learned to discipline himself against the ongoing torture within its' walls. Well, he had endeavored to be as disciplined as his mind was capable. Yet, there was always one question he asked himself every single night at _lights out_…

_Why?_

_What is the purpose of this?_

Spock still could not discern a reason for these so-called _experiments_, and he was ashamed to admit that this had bothered him, and continued to do so.

After he had finally confirmed that yes, he _was_ indeed set up by Starfleet, it only served to frustrate him further. Obviously, there existed an individual that had gone to great lengths to frame him, and have him sent here. Yet, every time Spock attempted to search his brain for a logical answer as to why this was, he ended up with nothing. Due to the illogical fury this had evoked from him as of late, Spock had made great attempts _not_ to think of the issue at all. There was nothing he could do about it; he was in no position to investigate the matter, so why cause himself unnecessary distress?

However, as he lay atop the frigid table in the _Limbo Room_ being poked and prodded by the doctors, he could not help but continue to ask himself those very questions.

A familiar, warm stinging sensation made its way through the veins in his arm until it was flowing quite freely throughout his entire body. Exactly thirty three seconds later, he felt his senses heighten along with his anxiety. He knew what drug they had injected him with, a cytokinetic drug which enhanced cellular activity in the brain. However, when utilized in a Vulcan whose cellular activity was already naturally at high levels, the effect it had on him was quite unpleasant and often erratic. Whereupon in humans it enabled them to focus and concentrate more efficiently, when utilized in Spock, it only made him tremor nervously, and he was certain his adrenaline levels would inevitably spike as the drug ran its course. If he had to narrow it down to one word to describe the vile drug's effects…

_Paranoia_.

That's what the drug made him feel like, extremely paranoid. At first, he did not understand this feeling, having never felt it before. However, Spock had come to realize that such a feeling was most unpleasant, and he loathed being within its grasp. He did not feel like a Vulcan while under its influence. Not at all.

A few seconds later, Spock clenched his eyes shut and turned his head away right as Dr. Harken shined a small, yet vibrant light into his pupils. The light's rays were painful to look into, which is why he turned his head in avoidance, but the man grabbed Spock's chin and forced his head back around anyway, and placed his thumb and forefinger on one Spock's eyelids to force it open again. Spock's discomfort mattered not to him it seemed.

His discomfort had mattered not for the duration of his time in this place.

Satisfied, the human repeated the gesture on the other eye before marking something down on his PADD with his finger. He then pulled out his tricorder and began scanning him for the seventh time today. For the entirety of the time, Spock was unable to feel any emotions the man might have been exhibiting, despite the physical contact. This however, was nothing new. Spock was always fascinated by the sheer lack of emotion Dr. Harken exhibited anytime he physically touched him. Whereas, with Dr. Edison and Dr. Stevens, whose emotions were often hostile and unpleasant, Dr. Harken seemed to remain entirely objective and unfeeling. Either the man was in all actuality, that distant, or he was remarkable at shielding his emotions from the Vulcan.

"Heart rate is becoming elevated Doctor, and his Blood Pressure is also elevated. I'd say the compound is taking effect," Dr. Harken surmised tonelessly.

"Yes, yes, very good, take another sample now. I want to compare the before and after. From what I'm starting to gather, there are significant differences between the two, and they could have a direct effect on our serum," Dr. Edison stated from the other side of the examination table, his eyes taking Spock in with interest.

Dr. Harken nodded impassively and placed another hypo against Spock's arm, which was already littered with various injection sites from prolonged weeks of experimentation. If he had been in peak health condition, the majority of the unhealed sites would have already been gone by now; since this was not the case, even the most minor sore or bruise took ages to disappear completely from his body. It was strange to him at first, to see a blemish take so long to disappear. Now though, now he had grown accustomed to it.

If he had to pick a human analogy, he would say his arm resembled an old terran battlefield; the kind in which numerous landmines had exploded. The green rashes from his continued exposure to the radiation in the mines did not help make the scene appear any more pleasing to the eye. If Dr. McCoy could see him now, and the state he was in, Spock believed he very nearly might have a heart attack just from the sight of him. That man always had an unusual affinity for overreacting when any member of the crew had become injured, and thus required his medical expertise. When it had come to the matter of Jim and Spock's health however, Dr. McCoy had taken _overreacting_ to the next level.

The doctors at Doradus however, were _not_ Dr. McCoy.

Spock watched the Dr. Edison, and the mirthful glint in his eyes while his breath became more rapid as a direct result of the drug running in his system. Stoically, Dr. Harken drew blood from him and took it over to Dr. Stevens, who was working at the centrifuge. The tremor in the Vulcan's hands had now moved to encompass his entire body as the drug continued to increase its hold over him. Out of nowhere, he felt an incessant need to bang his head against the wall, or at least do _something_ to stop the jittering which was threatening to drive him crazy. Paranoia was discomforting enough; he did not wish to add to it with these feelings as well.

Fortunately, the procedure did not get any worse for Spock, and when they were finished with him, the guard, who fortunately had not been the Warden, escorted him back to the transporter room, and beamed him back to the _Prison Pop_. He could not help but be relieved at the familiar sight of the grey, stone walls. He was thankful to be in the solitude of his own cell once again, and even more thankful that the force-field barrier had been erected in his absence. This meant he would not disturbed by the rest of the population, and they would not see him in such a weak, emotional state. However, his time in _Limbo Room _rarely lasted so long.

_How long have I been absent? _Spock thought worriedly to himself as he went to sit on his cot and held his head in his shaking hands. Usually, he did not arrive back in his cell so late. He had obviously missed _Roll Call_, and could only hope that the Warden knew of the reasons why he was not in attendance for it. He did not wish to be beaten again. He was still healing from injuries of the last beating he had received.

It troubled him that he could not discern the exact length of time he had been in the _Limbo Room_, but again, this was nothing new to him. It seemed that as time continued to pass, his ability to compute it right down to the millisecond was becoming increasingly difficult. He wondered if it was due to the fact that he was not able to properly meditate in this place. In fact, Spock found it hard to recall the last time he _had_ meditated. Try as he might, he could not remember, which was a terrifying thought all on its own, and only made him tremor and shake all the more.

Suddenly, Spock became illogically desperate, and found he could not keep his seat any longer. Whether it was from his own stress, or the stress brought on by the drugs still pumping through his veins, he did not know, he only knew that he was finding it increasingly difficult to remain calm, and he could no longer sit idly on the cot, lest he start panicking. He needed to find something to focus on, anything to get his mind off the chemical assault still battling through him, bringing such emotions to the surface.

He had to find a means to focus. He had to get his mind off the paranoia, the fear, and the anger.

Trembling, Spock took his right hand, and rubbed it harshly on a sharp, jagged edge of his cot where the metal was beginning to rust away. It was neither sanitary, nor safe to acquire a flesh wound in such a way for risk of infection, but he was desperate and out of ideas. He had already been vaccinated for Tetanus, so at least that was not an infection he would have to worry about.

A sharp, minute pain cascaded through his right hand, and he knew he had been successful. With a minute wince, Spock raised his right hand up to inspect that he had indeed added enough pressure to draw blood. There was a dark, emerald liquid rising to the surface of his hand, and he let the blood pool there for a few seconds. That done, with the fingers of his other hand, Spock dipped them in the blood on his palm, and walked shakily to the wall across from him where he then proceeded to draw a large _**X. **_Perhaps if he had a focal point, something he could concentrate on, he might actually be able to attempt some form of meditation, and quell these paranoid, frantic emotions he was experiencing.

Satisfied with his artwork, which most would find morbid, Spock stood back and eyed the way that the dark emerald color of his blood stood out against the grey starkness of the wall. It would not have been his first choice, but it would have to do.

Spock turned his eyes to his hand and applied pressure on the new injury until the blood clotted. That accomplished, he sat himself cross-legged on the floor, and placed his hands 'palms up' in his lap in his customary, meditative position. It felt strange to sit in such a position after not even bothering to do so for so long, but after a few moments, the familiar comfort sitting like this usually caused, began to cascade through him.

His body still trembled violently, but he remained focused on the blood-drawn **X **on the wall until it no longer seemed like an **X **written in his own blood**, **but rather, just a geometric shape that had taken on a bold, green color. He felt the tremor in his limbs begin to recede as he slipped further into a relaxed, meditative state, the first one in many, many months.

It was not long until the tremors ceased completely, and he was aware of nothing but his own mind. Spock inhaled and exhaled deeply, savoring the tranquility which had begun to seep through him. It had been too long since he had successfully meditated, and he had not realized how much he had relied on it before his incarceration. For the first time in a long time, he felt somewhat like a Vulcan again.

The next day Spock was feeling more refreshed than he had in a long time. It was fascinating what one successful meditation could achieve. He actually ate the entirety of his breakfast, and was attacking his work in the mines with a renewed vigor. It was Thursday, which meant that Spock would be expected to work another shift in the Prison's Diridium mine. Once that shift had begun, his new enthusiasm had not gone unnoticed by his human friend.

"Well, aren't you a peppy spit-fuck today," Dalton joked as he swung his pickaxe at the wall, bits of Diridium crumbling down in its wake.

Spock raised his eyebrow at the phrase, which despite years of working amongst humans, he had yet to come across.

"If you would clarify the meaning of the phrase, _spit-fuck?" _Spock inquired in his most professional tone. This caused the boy to laugh genuinely, and the sound of his laughter brought illogical warmth to Spock, who rarely experienced such light-hearted gestures anymore. Usually, when an individual exhibited laughter at Doradus, it was at the expense of another's pain and suffering.

"I'm just saying that you seem to be in higher spirits today than I've—well, then I've ever seen from you!" Dalton answered enthusiastically. The human was observant, Spock would grant him that.

"Aside from your crude phrasing regarding such an observation, you are most astute, I do find myself feeling slightly more, _rejuvenated_ today."

The human's eyes brightened. "Care to share your secret?"

Spock paused, and stared at him in confusion. "I am not aware of any secrets being kept, Dalton." After the shared incident in the _Limbo Room,_ Spock had found it appropriate, and much more comfortable to refer to him by his first name. It seemed absurd to do otherwise after enduring something like _that_ experiment together.

Dalton rolled his eyes playfully, which Spock found he did frequently in his presence. "I mean, what did you do to suddenly feel all rejuvenated and what not?"

Spock gave of another vigorous swing of his pickaxe before answering. "I was successfully able to enter into a meditative trance yesterday evening in my cell. I admit it is something I have not been able to accomplish since I arrived here. The increasing physical demands on my…person, were making such an endeavor impossibly difficult to achieve_,__"_ Spock explained as he dropped his pickaxe, and began moving his pile of newly collected Diridium into the wheel barrel to his left a few rocks at a time.

Dalton looked confused for a moment, his lips set into a frown, before a look of understanding flashed in his vibrant eyes. "Oh that's right! Vulcans do that meditation thing," he exclaimed in understanding before fixing Spock with a curious gaze. "I thought it was just a hobby for you guys, I didn't know it was actually a biological requirement," the human finished as he also began transferring his own pile of Diridium to his own specified wheel barrel.

"It is not a biological requirement, as I will not die as a result of not being able to meditate, but nevertheless, when Vulcans are not able to meditate on a regular basis, we find that our _emotions _become increasingly difficult to control." Spock would not have admitted something like this last year, but he found he had no qualms about doing it now.

Dalton peered up at him thoughtfully. "I see."

Spock did not miss the sympathetic frown grace his features.

At the end of the shift, Spock could not help but be slightly relieved that it was Thursday, and that he would not have to work in the mines tomorrow, being that it was the prison's _off _day. And as he had already had his weekly visit to the _Limbo Room, _he would not have to endure that again as well.

Yes, he could agree with Dalton, despite the human's vulgar terminology; he was indeed a _peppy spit-fuck._

His feelings of elatedness however, were to be short-lived, because the next day, the unthinkable happened.

Spock and Dalton were both in the sanitation room cleansing themselves. It was rather crowded, as the time they chosen seemed to be a popular time to shower. In a way though, this made it safer for the two of them. Or, that was Spock's previous assumption.

Due to the bombardment of emotions from the numerous beings crowding the room, Spock did not acknowledge the familiar tingle in his mind that was always caused by the Cardassian's mental presence, and one Cardassian in particular.

He did not realize their presence until they were suddenly there, surrounding him and Dalton with mischievous smiles on their faces. At the sight of them, the other inhabitants in the room quickly dispersed. Even if they were not afraid of the Cardassians at large, the other factions in the room were severely outnumbered by the mass group, and did not want to risk losing in a fight.

Spock noted errantly that T'Vara had been among the group that hastily exited, and right before she left, she stared at him with that unreadable expression once again, but Spock did not have time to ponder the meaning of such an expression, he had bigger problems to deal with at the moment.

"Well, well, _Spooock_, you have managed to get yourself all clean for me, and what do we have here?" Norkot paused in his taunts to stare appraisingly at Dalton, "you've brought a friend? How thoughtful!" Norkot finished gleefully, a manic look in his dark eyes. Beside him, Spock felt, more than saw Dalton shudder with apprehension. An apprehension that Spock was experiencing as he inwardly berated himself. He should have felt them coming. He would undoubtedly pay for that mistake.

"This must be one of the humans? Such a rarity here at Doradus. I haven't had the chance to have one in quite some time…" At Norkot's suggestive tone, it was not difficult to discern what the alien was hinting at in regards to his plans. Spock firmly planted himself in front of Dalton, as if to shield him from the vile beings surrounding him.

"You came here seeking me, Norkot. Leave the human out of it," Spock stated firmly, his eyes narrowed. The last thing he wanted was for Dalton, a human soul so youthful and jubilant, and so full of pride, to be taken by these creatures. It would destroy him as it had destroyed Spock.

Of course, Spock's attempt at protecting his friend seemed to excite the Cardassian all the more, for his smile had grown more expressive on his face.

"Tsk tsk Spock, after all our…_times_ together, and you still do not see that I am the one charge here, not you," Norkot spat dangerously as the group began to enclose upon him and Dalton. Inwardly, Spock began to panic, but it was not for himself, it was for the human behind him. _How could I have not felt Norkot coming? How could I allow him to get this close? _Spock chastised himself, and he noted guiltily that it was because of him that Dalton was about to be subjected to the same torture he was subjected to on a weekly basis from these aliens. It was his fault.

All out of options, there was only one more thing he could think of to do. He never thought he would do it, had never even _considered _for a moment of making such an attempt, but he did it anyway, for Dalton's sake. Pride and dignity did not matter when another's safety was in jeopardy.

Closing his eyes, Spock inhaled deeply before opening them again, and then looked straight at Norkot, his expression as beseeching as he could make it. Once again, he was grateful that Jim was not here to witness what he was about to do. Actually, he was grateful that none of the people in his previous life were here to witness what he was about to do.

"Please Norkot, I ask that you do not harm him," Spock paused and clenched his fists. To voice what he was about to say…was difficult. "Take me instead, please," Spock paused again, and took a deep breath. "I beg you to take me instead," Spock finished softly as shame filled him. Spock of Vulcan, and the former First Officer of the Enterprise, here begging like a terran dog, and begging to be sexually assaulted of all things. His father would be most disappointed.

Norkot gazed at him thoughtfully, as if he were actually considering his plight. "Perhaps if you get down on your knees, tell me that you want me, beg me to take you, perhaps then I will let your precious human walk out of here," Norkot proposed in a scheming tone, his eyes looking that of a predator.

Suddenly, Dalton was standing beside Spock, and glaring at Norkot fiercely. Spock could feel the overwhelming anger and protectiveness radiating off of his friend. "No Spock! Don't you dare do it. Whatever he's got up his sleeve, I can handle it," out of Spock's peripheral vision, he witnessed Dalton turn his head to face him, yet the Vulcan continued to look straight ahead. "Spock, don't you dare get down on your knees for my sake," the human added in almost a desperate voice, and Spock knew that Dalton was now staring at him intensely—willing him to make eye contact, but the Vulcan would not. If there was a chance he could spare Dalton from this, why would he not take it? What if it were Jim standing there? Would he not do the same thing? _Of course I would, _he told himself firmly. Thus the decision had been made.

Norkot chuckled at the exchange, much to Spock's irritation."Such unwise words human. Your friend here is bargaining for your life, and you ask him to cease? I assumed a Vulcan would surround himself with more _logical_ friends…"

"He shouldn't have to beg you for anything, you sorry sack of shit!" Dalton yelled vehemently as he rounded back to glare at the Cardassian. Spock tried to send out waves of calm in an attempt to quiet his friend, who would undoubtedly get himself killed at this rate, but Dalton's anger and repulsion was too great to feel any of his attempts.

Fortunately, Norkot ignored his insults, and snapped his head back to Spock as if he had never heard the human in the first place. "Well, Vulcan? I'm waiting. Or have you changed your mind? If that is the case, then I will be more than happy to…"

"That is not necessary," Spock cut him off hastily, and a second later, he immediately dropped to his knees, biting back the bile that rose in his throat at what he was about to say.

_Dalton…think of Dalton..._he repeated the mantra over and over again in his mind.

"Please Norkot, I…I want you to take me," he voiced quietly. He had intended it to be louder, but it had been more difficult than he had anticipated.

_Think of Dalton…his safety. That is what is most important._

Norkot looked at him in amusement as the others in the room began laughing at his attempt to beg. The female in particular, was laughing the hardest out of all of them. The vibration of it coursed through Spock, and he fought the urge to shudder. Laughter was always a prelude to pain.

Except for Dalton's laughter, which he would never hear again if he did not force himself to do this deed.

"Oh Spock, you're going to have to do better than that," Norkot laughed.

Spock swallowed and took a deep breath, preparing to shame himself even more. He was obviously going to have to be more creative in his wording.

_Dalton. Dalton's safety. Protect Dalton. _

"Please, I want to be yours, and only yours," he tried again, slightly louder this time. He barely recognized his own voice as he said it, and Spock could feel Dalton's disgust and repulsion which shamed him even more, for he could not discern if the emotions were meant for him, or for the Cardassians.

"How do you want me?" Norkot furthered, his eyes closing in what Spock deduced was pleasure. Spock hesitated, but decided to continue. After all, he had already gotten this far.

_Think of Dalton…_

_I am sorry, Jim. So sorry…_

"I…" _Say it Spock! _"I want you inside me," the words sounded so foreign and vulgar coming out of his mouth. For a second, he could not believe that he was the one who had voiced them.

Norkot's eyes narrowed in apparent gratification. Obvioulsy he had chosen his words wisely. "To dominate you, Vulcan?"

Was this necessary? Did they _have_ to humiliate him further? Had he not already stated what they wished to hear?

"…Yes."

"And," Norkot went on as he began walking closer to Spock, Seska following closely behind him, "do you admit that I am superior to you?"

Spock looked Norkot straight in the eyes. He would do this. "Yes. You are superior to me," he answered as sincerely as possible. The female, Seska, leaned into Norkot to whisper something in his ear, and despite his Vulcan hearing, Spock could not hear the words she muttered. Norkot nodded to her before chuckling slightly. He then stared firmly back at Spock.

"Come Vulcan, kneel before me."

"You inferred that you would let the human go if I did as you wished," Spock stated as he kept his place. He had not groveled at the alien's feet for nothing.

"And I will!" Norkot exclaimed enthusiastically. "Don't you worry you're pretty little head! But, there's no reason why he can't watch…"

Spock felt his eyes close involuntarily. It was enough to have to bear this shame of consenting to be raped willingly, but to have Dalton, a human he had come to respect and possibly earned the same respect in return, watch him participate in the act?

Humiliating. That is what this was.

Norkot huffed in annoyance at Spock's hesitation.

"I'm waiting!" The alien snapped, and Spock felt himself obey. It was like something else inside him had taken over as he numbly rose to his feet and walked the short distance over to Norkot, where he fell to his knees again. Instantly he heard the sounds of muffled grunts and protests as Dalton apparently began attempting to fight his way over to Spock. It was not long however, before two of Norkot's gang had him in their grasps, easily subdued.

_Forgive me, Jim. _

Spock wanted to forget what he did next. What he had _willingly_ done. Never before in all of Norkot's attacks had Spock gone down without a fight. Every single time they managed to corner him, he had fought valiantly. Of course, he had never won, he was too outnumbered, but at least he _knew_ there was nothing he could have done. The assault still happened, but he had not consented to it…they had yet to take that from him. However, that was not the case this time as Norkot began to drop his pants, effectively exposing his turgid, ridged penis.

The sight was nothing new to Spock; he had seen and felt this alien's organ numerous times before. By now, every aspect about it, the way it felt, its' temperature, the moves it could make within his body, the moves it forced him to make while sheathed in his body; it all had been horribly engrained in his memory. Every. Single. Detail.

"Open your mouth," Norkot commanded with a smile, and Spock felt himself numbly comply. Without a moment's hesitation, Norkot grasped Spock harshly by the back of his head and brought it forward, while simultaneously jamming the bloated cock into the Vulcan's mouth.

Spock choked on the organ as it thrust against the back of his throat and activated his gagging reflex, which he had yet to get under control. However, this always seemed to excite the Cardassian even more, and today was no exception.

"Ahhhhh yes, choke on it Vulcan—ahhhh," Norkot keened as his thrusts became harder and quicker in their pace. Spock could feel the ridges on the side of the alien's penis against the hollow of his cheeks, and he knew from experience that, by the time the rest of the group had taken their turn, the innards of his cheeks would be raw and chaffed from the relentless texture of the skin which obviously did not agree with Vulcan physiology.

With a tightening on Spock's hair, and one last vigorous thrust into his mouth, the alien climaxed fervently. Warm, thick semen spurted out of the head of the penis and into the back of his throat making him cough and choke yet again. But Norkot held his head firmly in place, forcing him to swallow the unsavory fluid lest he continue choking on it.

The sweaty, salty taste of Norkot still lingered fervently in his mouth as the penis was withdrawn, leaving the remnants of semen on and around his lips. Spock could not help but notice that the organ was still fiercely erect, which meant the alien was not done with him. Had he expected him to be?

His heart fell at what was still to come.

"Turn around, get on the floor and stick your ass in the air for me." The command was humiliating and disgraceful, and he knew that Norkot was only taking advantage of the unique situation he found himself in, but he complied anyway. As soon as he turned around, the pained, furious eyes of Dalton stared back at him. Spock found that he hated that expression, and a wave of fury enveloped him. He wanted nothing more than to rip the Cardassian limb from limb for what he was forcing him to do. Yet, he knew such a feat was impossible. They would be able to take him down easily, possibly kill him, and then they would undoubtedly go after Dalton. No. He could not allow such a thing to come to pass.

"Do not worry for me, Dalton,it is necessary." _So that you remain safe, _he wanted to add, but did not.

The sound of female laughter permeated the air. "Oh but you _should_ worry for the Vulcan, _Dalton_, this isn't going to be pleasant for him," Seska spat as she walked over to the human and ran her course fingers through his hair and finally, down his cheek until she was gripping his chin. He tore his face away from her in disgust.

"Fuck you! Fuck all of you!" Dalton seethed, making Spock inwardly flinch out of fear of what Dalton's insult might gain the human, but the Cardassians merely laughed again.

"Oh no human," Norkot paused and smiled, "it's such a _delightful_ human phrase—but I'll be _fucking_ him for the time being," Norkot responded as Spock felt him kneel behind him, and grasp his hips harshly, making sure to dig his fingernails into the flesh there possessively. When he finally decided to penetrate him, the sheer force behind it made Spock whimper and grunt unwillingly with pain. This only seemed to excite the alien currently sheathed within him.

"Yeeesss, moan for me…"

He had thought the Cardassian had always been as rough as possible with him.

He had been wrong.

This time, the assault was brutal and unrelenting. It never had a chance to pick up speed because the entire ordeal had already been set at a fast, harsh pace. Each and every movement against Spock made him feel like he was about to split open from the inside, and he found that he could not look Dalton in the eyes anymore. It was too humiliating. It did not help either, that on the chance that he _did_ catch Dalton's eyes…he imagined Jim standing there, staring at him with that painful expression. So, instead, he concentrated solely on the cold tile underneath him as the wet, smacking sounds of body against body engulfed the room and echoed off the walls.

After what seemed like an eternity, Norkot's hand tangled itself in Spock's hair, a gesture that always seemed to please the alien upon achieving an orgasm, and ripped his head back as he climaxed yet again and sent another bout of seminal fluid into his now bleeding rectum. Due to the structure of Cardassian genitalia, Spock always bled…always.

Finally it was over, but that hardly meant anything. Usually Norkot's men would then take their turns with him, but they were not nearly as forceful as their leader, who seemed to claim that particular aspect for himself.

Lazily, Norkot removed himself from Spock, the vile organ making a wet, slippery sound as it vacated his posterior, before violently flipping him over on his back.

_This is new, _he thought, and slightly panicked as he struggled to catch his breath.

Suddenly Seska was there hovering over him, studying him seductively. Spock did not like that look, it made him uneasy. Without warning, she threw herself on top of him and violently started kissing him. Her tongue, which felt oddly stiff and rough, forced itself inside his mouth, demanding entrance. For a moment he forgot himself, and almost acted on the urge to throw her off of him before he remembered his deal with Norkot. Begrudgingly, Spock began kissing her back, knowing by her thoughts from the physical contact, that that was what she wanted. The images he could see in her mind were enough to inform of such.

Bringing her head up for breath, she began to straddle him and frowned at the revelation that he indeed, was not aroused, not even in the slightest. _Did she expect me to be? Ignorant assumption._The deal was to be willing, but he found that that was one thing he just could not do. It was his one limitation. The one line he would not cross.

She tried in vain to get him aroused by touching him, but it never happened. There was only one person who could have that effect on him now, and this…this _creature_ on top of him was not that person, and would never be anything even remotely comparable to his Jim.

Growing frustrated with his lack of reaction, Seska drew back her hand and backhanded him viciously across the face. The force of it caused his head to whip around to the side, but he recovered quickly, and glared at her in defiance. Let her strike him, for all the good it would do her.

"Insolent Vulcan!" She spat at him as she slapped him again, and again, and again. Each time Spock continued to meet her gaze despite the severe stinging now encompassing his cheeks.

"Alright Seska! That is enough," Norkot ordered as he placed his large hand on her shoulder. Her hand raised mid-strike; she turned and glared at Norkot in disappointment. "I want him conscious for this," Norkot furthered gently. She held his gaze for a few seconds before smiling largely, and for some reason, that smile made Spock very uncomfortable. Conscious for what?

"You two," the Cardassian barked behind him, "hold the Vulcan still, make sure he doesn't look away," Norkot finished as two of his lackeys darted over to Spock and heaved him ungracefully off the floor. When they had him erect and restrained, Norkot gazed at him for a second before making his way over to Dalton.

Spock followed him with his eyes, suddenly nervous about the Cardassian's intentions; he had made a deal had he not? However, any belief that that deal would be kept shattered as Norkot took Dalton roughly by his hair, wrenched him around, and forced him down on the ground with his back facing the Cardassian.

Spock felt all the blood drain from his face. He should have anticipated this happening.

"We made a deal Norkot!" Spock yelled, unable to hide the emotion in his voice.

Norkot, who was situating the struggling Dalton on the floor beneath him, looked up and met his alarmed gaze with a vivacious smile.

"Correct you are, Spock, and I haven't broken it, our deal was that if you willingly submitted to me, that I would let the human walk out of here, which is something I fully intend on making good on." Dalton chose at that moment to twist roughly beneath the Cardassian, who in turn smacked him on the back of the head carelessly. He then turned back to Spock. "You see, before I made the deal with you, I had every intention of killing this boy beneath me."

Spock could not deny the anger swelling up inside him as he began to struggle in the grips that held him. Everything he had just done—_everything_—had all been for nothing. Dalton was still going to be raped, and there was nothing he could do about it.

The sounds of Dalton's screams echoed through the room and threatened to burn Spock to the ground as Norkot took him harshly and quickly, just as he had done with Spock.

Knowing that Spock would suffer just by witnessing it, Norkot positioned Dalton's head so that he was staring at the Vulcan. His eyes were wide with pain and agony. As hard as it was, Spock held his gaze as he attempted to send waves of comfort and calm across the room to him. But, it was severely difficult to send a calm that Spock did not feel. Could not feel.

"I am—I am sorry, Dalton," he managed regretfully before closing his eyes tightly, unable to watch the scene before him any longer. It shamed him that he could not watch, but there was nothing for it.

As soon as the attack had ceased, and the Cardassian's made their exit, Spock all but ran over to Dalton, who was still lying splayed out on the floor, naked and trembling, obviously in a state of shock. Not saying anything, because quite frankly Spock did not know what to say, he gathered up Dalton's clothing which had been stored in a unit next to the shower stall they had been utilizing, and proceeded to dress him.

He had barely touched the human's arm when Dalton pushed it away. Sensing repulsion from the brief contact, Spock took a few steps back at the gesture, unsure if the young man was angry at him. Not that he would blame him if he was. It was his fault this had happened.

"Look, I'm sorry Spock, I didn't mean to be…rude, I just—I would rather not be touched right now, ya'know?" Dalton explained quietly as he placed his head on his arms, which had encased his knees, bringing them close to his chest. He would not meet the Vulcan's eyes.

"I understand," Spock answered gently, fully aware of such of a feeling. He regarded the human before him for a moment as guilt swept over him. He had failed this human, he was supposed to have protected him, and he had failed in that endeavor.

"Dalton, I am…there seem to be no words adequate enough to express…" Spock began, his eyebrows wrinkling together as he sorted through his raging emotions. At his pause, Dalton peered up at him, searching his face. This compelled Spock to continue. He owed the human that much.

"I am sorry, sincerely so," Spock finally admitted, though he knew it would never be enough to make up for what Dalton had been through.

The human suddenly looked angry. "DON'T—," he started loudly before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath in order to calm himself, "—don't you dare start up on that shit," Dalton finished in a gentle, but still angered tone. "This…this wasn't your fault Spock."

Spock peered at him sharply.

"I should not have let it happen, Mr. Corwin…"

"So we're back to last names again?" Dalton said sourly.

"I should not have allowed it to happen!" Spock drowned out Dalton's voice easily. He was angry at himself. Illogical, but it did not change the fact that it was true.

Dalton exhibited a lengthy sigh, and Spock deduced the human was irritated.

"Please, pray tell, what could you have possibly done? There were what—at least eight of them!?" And here he shot Spock a deadpanned look. "I understand Vulcans are strong Spock, but let's be realistic here," Dalton argued, unusually calm now despite the ordeal he had just been through.

"I am Vulcan, I should have been able to feel them coming, I should have been able to get you to safety before their arrival. Because of my carelessness, you were sexually assaulted. I am to blame," Spock explained in all seriousness. Dalton flinched at the casual way he said the last part, but it was not long before he was standing up, albeit with difficulty, and forcing his clothes on angrily. Perhaps now, the human finally understood, and would now be furious with him.

"You have a right to be angry with me," Spock surmised as he began searching for his own clothes. By now, people had begun to file back in the room as soon as they were sure it was safe again. They looked at them pitifully before busying themselves in the showers. T'Vara was not among them.

Dalton, who was fully clothed now, refused to look at him. "Whatever you wanna tell yourself Spock, just go right on ahead," he said bitterly, and began heading out of the room. Before he exited, he halted at the door and stood there a few seconds, as if he were thinking about something. Finally, he turned around and gazed at Spock softly. "But I'm not angry at you for the Cardassians, don't ever think that," and with that, he left the room, leaving Spock to stare after him. He knew then what he had to do.

About thirty minutes later, Spock found himself over in the section of the _Prison Pop_ that he knew Jacques and the rest of the humans frequented. As he suspected, he found the older man leaning lazily up against the wall with a throng of men lingering around him, engaged in various activities. Three of them, he noted, he had not seen before. Perhaps they were new inmates. Upon further inspection, Spock noticed that four of the remainder of the humans were passing something around to one another, but at Spock's sudden appearance, hastily hid it away. Spock wasted no time thinking about the secretive object. That was not the purpose of this visit.

"Mr. Jacques, I would speak with you," Spock announced stoically; his hands firmly clasped behind his back. Jacques regarded him warily, and Spock was vaguely aware that perhaps the man was frightened of him. _As he should be, I obviously get people hurt merely by association. _

"I assure you, I mean you no harm, I merely wish to speak with you about a matter of great importance," Spock reassured him.

Jacques shared a glance with his comrades before leaving the group to join him. One of the men made to follow him, but was halted by a wave of Jacques' hand. "What do you want, Mr. Starfleet?" the human asked bitterly, Spock ignored his tone.

"It is in regards to Mr. Corwin."

Jacques narrowed his eyes at him. "What do ya' need me for? I thought you two were inseparable these days? Practically joined at the hip!" he spat as he peered around Spock's shoulder, apparently looking for Dalton. Spock did not understand how this human could come to the conclusion that he and Dalton were, _joined at the hip_, as they clearly were not. However, he ignored this and continued.

"I am aware that he parted on bad terms with you, and that it pertained to an attack on me?"

"You're talkin' about when those lizard freaks fucked you, right?" Jacques stated nonchalantly.

Spock felt himself bristle at the casual reference to something which haunted him daily, but kept his anger under control. "I would not put it so crudely Mr. Jacques, but yes, this is the instance to which I am referring," Spock stated through gritted teeth.

The human sighed arduously. "I told that boy to cut ties with you, that you're bad news. You got no friends here, Vulcan. In case you haven't noticed, everyone here hates your ass, and would gladly stand in line behind those Cardassians to get a piece of you if they weren't so damn intimidated!" Jacques yelled angrily.

Spock merely raised his eyebrows, slightly shocked at the man's outburst.

"You got no protection in here, Spock, and the only one on your side is that defenseless boy. I try-_I tried _to keep him away from you, but you just suckered him right on in. Hell, even the fucking _doctor_ has started giving that boy more attention because of you!" Jacques accused vehemently as he jabbed a finger into Spock's chest. Spock felt himself tense at the unwanted contact, but would not allow himself to react.

"You are inferring that you can protect Mr. Corwin? That you can offer him the protection of a group? A faction?" Spock all but blurted out. This was why he had come after all. It was logical to get right to the point. Obviously, he could not protect Dalton, and as long as Spock remained a target, Dalton would also be one. He could not permit that to continue.

Jacques peered at him in bewilderment, clearly not expecting to hear that. "Just what are you gettin' at here?" he probed suspiciously.

"Answer the question," Spock bit out, growing impatient.

"Obviously! He was doing fine before you came along, wasn't he?"

Spock, who had his mouth open in response, quickly shut it as he pondered the man's response. Upon their first meeting, Dalton had not appeared to be that healthy, but then again, who in this place was healthy? No, it was not until he had left Jacques' group to become friends with Spock, that he had been subjected to extra sessions in the _Limbo Room, _and more recently, that he had been raped. That all happened in Spock's care. The man, despite the way he stated it, was correct.

"In the next hour, I intend to bring Mr. Corwin here. Whether he will come willingly or not, I do not have enough data to conclude. However, when he is indeed in your care, I must ask that you not let him remain in contact with me," Spock implored as he leveled his eyes at the man before him.

For a moment, all the human could do was stand there in shock, but eventually he responded. "I tried to forbid him from contacting you before; we see how that went…"

"Yes, but before, he was able to retreat to my company, and there was quite literally nothing you could do to refrain him from doing so."

Jacques visibly bristled at that, and opened his mouth to retaliate, but Spock cut him off.

"However, as soon as I bring him here, he will elicit no further contact from me. I will not speak to him; I will not associate with him. I am placing emphasis on this request; keep him in your group," Spock all but ordered the man in front of him with eyes as hard as stone. For a moment Spock thought he would reply, but instead, he nodded slightly in acceptance.

Spock inclined his head. "Thank you," he answered simply before turning to leave. He had only managed a few steps when Jacques' voice sounded from behind him.

"You got him hurt, didn't you," it was more an accusation than a question.

Immediately Spock halted, but refused to turn around, lest the shame and guilt show on his face.

"I knew it, fuckin' knew it," the man muttered angrily to himself.

"I can only hope you can protect him where…where I have failed," Spock responded in barely above a whisper before continuing his exit.

((oOo))

Dalton…did not take the news well.

"No fucking way, Spock! I can't believe what you're saying right now!" Dalton yelled as he paced back and forth in Spock's cell. Spock had gone looking for Dalton in the human's own cell initially, and upon not finding him there, decided that his own cell would be most logical place to search next. He had not been wrong, for Dalton had been waiting there for him.

"It is logical that you remain with a group that can protect you," Spock countered plainly, though his fists were tightly balled up at his sides. It was harder than he had first ascertained, telling Dalton these things.

Dalton snorted.

"You're logic can suck my balls, Spock. I told you not to spout that bullshit to me!"

Spock quirked an eyebrow at the image this statement elicited, but continued his argument. He would obviously need to change his strategy. He had to find some way to adequately convince the human in front of him that he did not want to be around him.

"You do not understand, I do not wish to be in your company any longer, Mr. Corwin. While you are with me, not only do you risk yourself, but you risk me as well. I do not wish to risk myself in such a manner," Spock was inwardly shocked at how easy it had been to lie to the human. Obviously he did not truly feel like the young man was a risk to his own life, but he did not know how else to entice Dalton to cease talking to him. Perhaps, if he made it clear that he did not desire his company, the human would move on. This would be best for both parties involved. It did not matter how much Spock abhorred the thought of not having Dalton as a friend in a place like this. His own personal feelings on the matter were not relevant.

Dalton however, did not look convinced.

_You have to make it more convincing for him to really believe it, Spock, _a voice which strangely sounded like that of his Jim, sounded within him. Of course it would be Jim in his subconscious teaching him how to lie more effectively.

"It is tedious for me to continue being your chaperone. Mr. Jacques is better suited for this purpose," Spock finally settled on, his tone as impassive as ever.

Dalton halted in his pacing and glared at him with a mixture of shock and rage.

"I bet you want to believe that Spock, but deep down, I know that's not true, but I'm gonna say this anyway, _fuck you!" _Dalton seethed, his words causing Spock to physically flinch. He had not been expecting that. Dalton paid him no attention as he soldiered on.

"You want to be alone!? FINE! I don't give a fuck anymore! You want to continue being some fuck toy for the Cardassians? Don't give a fuck about that anymore either! Tired of being my chaperone? I'm a grown ass fucking man, Spock. I make my own fucking decisions, but if it's what you really want? Fine, I'll respect your decision. Enjoy having no friends in this place; it's obviously what you want!" Dalton bellowed in as furious a voice as Spock could ever remember him using. Emotions such as anger, intense hurt and even betrayal poured off the young man in waves as they attacked Spock's already weakened mental shields.

When Dalton began to storm out of the cell, he halted at the entrance, and whipped his body around and flung up the Vulcan ta'al. There was no amity in the gesture though.

"Live long and have fun pretending not to give a fuck," Dalton spat as the Vulcan _ta'al _quickly transpired into one lone finger standing erect in the middle of the human's hand. Spock was not sure what that gesture was supposed to me, and nor did he have time to ask for clarification. Dalton was gone a second later, leaving a flabbergasted Spock staring after him.

He knew that Dalton was just angry, extremely angry, and that he was reacting in the emotional way that all humans seemed to react, but it did not make it hurt any less, especially because Dalton's words, while some were truthful, the latter half was not. He did not wish to be alone, he did not want to continue being violated by the Cardassians, nor any of the prisoners here if they should choose to violate him as well, and he definitely did not wish to be friendless. He had already lost Nyota, Dr. McCoy, his father…and Jim. He did not want to lose Dalton either, but he knew that it had to be this way. He could not be responsible for his death.

What must be, must be.

What is, is.

Kaiidth.

******A.N. What did ya'll think? I did not put up warnings before the rape scene this time because of complaints. Hopefully this did not offend anyone. If it did, I'm sorry. Also, I've been slowly but surely going back through earlier chapters and correcting mistakes. Chapter one in particular has had a lot of corrections if that interest anyone. ;) **there have been more corrected chapters on my other two sites...FF is a bitch to edit chapters that have already been published. 


	17. Back Scratchers

**A.N. Wow the reviews for the last chapter were amazing! Thank you all sooooooooo much for taking time out of your busy schedules to write those things. They really warm my heart and fill me with inspiration! **

**As for this chapter, there are warnings for more graphic scenes, which by now, I hope everyone has gotten sort of used to. What can I say, I'm really evil when I write. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek! **

Chapter 17:

Back Scratchers

**Stardate 2261.75**

**Doradus Prime:**

The next two months, one week, and three days, had been the most terrible ones Spock had ever experienced at Doradus thus far. Not having Dalton around had taken a larger toll on the Vulcan than he had originally anticipated. He had felt alone coming here in the first place, but now…now he was utterly and truly alone without the human, who he had not realized he had come to depend on for a sense of normalcy.

The only instances he saw Dalton were either in the mess hall, eating his meals with Jacques and the rest of the humans, or in the sanitation room. He rarely saw the human in the mines anymore since Spock was doing his best to avoid working around him. Apparently, Dalton was putting in the same effort.

Spock was Vulcan, therefore, Dalton's avoidance of him _did not_ affect his feelings.

There was no denying it though; Spock _did_ miss Dalton's company. It seemed like the friendship between them was the only normal thing in this very abnormal world Spock had been forced into. However, he would not let his illogical feelings on the matter thwart his attempt at avoiding the human. If it meant Dalton would stay safe, then he would continue in his attempt. He was a Vulcan. Issues regarding emotional attachment did not and _should not _affect him or cloud his judgment.

On the rare occasion that they did catch each other's eyes, instead of anger and disappointment, which Spock had expected to observe in the human's expression, Dalton would look at him with something akin to concern and worry. This had surprised Spock, for since it appeared that even at a distance, the human was still endeavoring to be his friend despite his furious outburst at their last conversation with one another. Spock would only allow his gaze to linger barely a second before he averted it to something else. He had been afraid that his own feelings on the matter would leak into his expression.

"Well, well, well...if it isn't Mr. _Goody-two-shoes_," the snarky voice of a familiar Romulan sounded from somewhere close to him, and it caused Spock to inwardly grown. "Rumor has it that you've been making the Cardassians very, _very_ happy as of late," Lokar continued from closer behind him as Spock made his way into the prison's gymnasium to attempt some form of exercise.

Spock had not paid as much attention at keeping up his physical fitness as he had before his incarceration. There were just so many different obstacles in his life that he was forced to battle on a daily basis, and if he were to be honest with himself, Spock was simply too exhausted the majority of the time from simply _existing_ at Doradus Prime. The mere thought of physically exerting himself through exercise was intimidating, yet, he knew it was necessary. He knew that if wanted to keep his strength up for his work, as well as his continued assaults, _and _the _Limbo Room,_ then logically, he needed to divert more attention to his physical fitness. Thus, the reason why he was here in the one place the Romulans seemed to frequent the most out of the entire _Prison Pop_.

"My relationship with the Cardassians is not your concern, Lokar," Spock answered dismissively as he inspected the gym for some sort of activity he could perform that would be well away from the Romulan, who had come to stand beside him, a smirk on his face.

"Word on the street is that you're their…what do the humans call it?" Lokar paused and tapped his fingers on his chin as if in thought, "oh yes, their _bitch_. Imagine that? A Vulcan being someone's bitch," Lokar sneered and leaned in closer to Spock, his mouth just inches away from the Vulcan's ear which had started to burn with fury. "Tis' a shame I did not snatch that opportunity while it was still up for grabs," the Romulan continued lecherously, completely ignoring Spock's previous request. His words however, proved too much for Spock's fragile control, and the Vulcan snapped instantly.

Without a second thought, Spock abruptly rounded on the Romulan and slammed his fist into the side of his face, sending Lokar's head twirling around, but it had not been enough to send him crashing to the floor as Spock had intended.

"Why you fu—," Lokar began furiously as he lunged at Spock, took him by the waist in his mammoth arms, and sent them both crashing to the floor in a tangle of flying fists. The scene drew the attention of the rest of Lokar's gang, and they rushed over to assist their leader. Soon Spock felt the brutal assault of numerous kicks to his body as the other Romulans jumped into the fray. On his own, Lokar was no match for Spock, but with back up, Spock knew he was fighting a losing battle. He did not care though as the Romulan's sexual jibes continued to plow through his head. It only fueled the blind rage he found himself in. He could not help being raped by Norkot, it was unavoidable, but that did not mean he had to stand here and listen to a Romulan make jokes about it at his expense.

Eventually they were able to pull him off of Lokar, and while Spock managed to administer a nerve pinch to at least one of them, the other four who had come to Lokar's aid were not taken down so easily.

The rest of the prisoners in the gymnasium had stopped all activity, and were watching the fight with certain jubilance. Spock had not missed the fact that everyone was cheering for the Romulans. No one cheered for him. He did not expect them too. As Jacques had already informed him—_no one_ liked him here because of his affiliation with Starfleet.

Except for Dalton.

Despite being heavily outnumbered, Spock actually found that he stood a chance of winning this fight. While the five who quarreled with him now were stronger as a whole than he was, his Vulcan _Suus Mahna_ training, coupled with the combat training he had received in Starfleet had made him into a formidable adversary, and unlike the last time Lokar had attacked him, Spock was not near collapsing with exhaustion from a previous unethical experimental procedure. He was certain he had been prepared this time.

He knew he had lost though when Lokar, who had disappeared from the fray briefly, came back seconds later with an Olympic Bar Bell in his hands. Gripping the forty-five pound metal bar like a baseball bat, the Romulan swung as hard as he could at Spock's head. Metal met with bone and Spock heard, as well as felt, a sickening crack come from his skull as the bar made contact with him.

He went down instantly, clutching at his injured head with his hand to help mask the agonizing pain that suddenly engulfed him. The blow left him feeling extremely disoriented as well, but he refused to cry out. When he pulled his hand away dazedly, he was met with the sight of thick, green blood. The sheer amount of it was alarming to Spock, and he knew his injury was severe.

"That's right Vulcan. Bleed. Show everyone that you really are just a lowly mortal like the rest of us," Lokar seethed as he threw the barbell aside. The sharp sound it made as it collided with the floor stabbed at Spock's ears, and made his head hurt all the more. Errantly, he wondered if the guards were watching the scene, and if they were, were they planning on interfering?

His disoriented eyes looked up towards the ceiling, where the guards routinely stood watch, and wondered if they would help him, if they would get him the medical attention he so desperately needed. But as his eyes scanned the scaffold where they usually stood, he noted with a sinking heart that they paid him no attention. It was as if they had simply chosen to ignore what had just happened.

Knowing all that he knew about Doradus, that was not a surprise.

Spock turned his attention back to the Romulans, and blearily watched as Lokar spat at him, and together with his comrades, exited the gymnasium. He attempted to get up, but the searing pain in his head at the motion forced him to lie back down. His vision was spinning, and he felt himself starting to lose consciousness. _No! Stay awake Spock! _He tried to tell himself as he continued to lie there, breathing laboriously. He knew that if he fell asleep now, with an injury as severe as a fractured skull, his body would drag him into a healing trance, or worse, he would die. It would be unavoidable either way.

Of all the places for him to lose consciousness, here in the middle of floor of the gymnasium where anyone could have access to him, was unthinkable. The mere thought of it was enough to send him into a mental panic. _This, as well as the fact that there is no one to wake me when and if the time comes._ He thought to himself desperately as the tendrils of unconsciousness grabbed at him and pulled him down into darkness.

((oOo))

When he felt himself trying to return to a conscious state, he could tell that his head had been bandaged, and that he was indeed lying on a bed very reminiscent to the cot in his cell. That confused him. For the last place he remembered being coherent was the floor of the gymnasium. Had someone moved him someplace else? Had the guards perhaps decided to aid him after all? Knowing that he might die if they did not?

Mentally, he reached out to his body to probe the status of his injuries.

Fortunately, while his skull was still fractured, the healing trance had reduced it to merely a hairline fracture, and it definitely was not as bad as it had been before his healing trance. While his condition was not ideal, it was acceptable. Given time, he would make a full recovery.

"Spock? Spock, can you hear me?" a familiar voice probed him. Obviously his fingers had been twitching or something of that nature as his body tried to pull out of the healing trance, and whoever was with him had noticed the gesture. The warmth and concern which flowed freely in the other's voice hinted to him that it most likely was not a guard, but someone else…and Spock found himself extremely grateful if he happened to be correct on who that _someone else_ was.

"Please…strike me," Spock managed to voice weakly. His eyes were still closed, so he could not see the person on the other side, but they sounded very reluctant when they answered him.

"What?" the familiar voice asked, clearly bewildered at such a request.

"You will…have…to strike me to bring…me out…" Spock tried again. His body held vigorously onto his sleeping state, not yet willing to let him wake up yet.

"Strike you? Like—like hit you in the face?"

"…Yes."

He heard a hesitant sigh on the other end. "Okay, here goes nothing," a slight stinging pressure probed at his left cheek, and caused it to tingle, but it was not enough to bring him out of unconsciousness; out of the healing trance.

"Harder," Spock encouraged in a whisper, because talking was even a chore.

"That's pretty damn hard—oh, alright." Again, another sharp stinging pressure was applied to his cheek, but still, it was unsuccessful.

"Harder!" Spock managed with more force this time. It frustrated him that individuals who were not Vulcan, were so aghast at performing this basic function, almost as if they were afraid to break him or damage him beyond repair. However, the blow that affronted him the third time left a lingering sting, which was actually somewhat painful to Spock.

He could feel rather than see the hand rise to strike him again, but his own hand shot out and grabbed at the wrist before it could come down on him. "That will be sufficient, thank you," Spock said impassively, and opened his eyes to none other than Dalton Corwin leaning over him; pure worry etched onto his features. After two months of not being within speaking distance of one another, Spock could not help the illogical warmth that touched him at the sight of the human so close to him now. He had not realized how much he had actually desired his company. How much he had missed his friendly, mental signature.

"Spock!" Dalton started happily before looking annoyed. "I don't know what the hell that was all about…"

"I sustained quite a serious injury; my body reacted accordingly, and forced me into what is known as a Vulcan healing trance. Vulcans recede so deeply into their minds to perform the necessary healing involved, that it takes physical stimulation to bring us to coherency once again," Spock explained as if he were back at the Academy, giving a lecture on Vulcan culture.

Dalton inclined his head bemusedly. "Uh-huh…" was the human's response.

While Spock was momentarily overwhelmed with the pleasant emotions associated with conversing with his friend again, it did not take him long to get right to scolding him. "Mr. Corwin, I thought I made it perfectly clear that I wanted no contact between us?" Spock said firmly as he attempted to sit up on the cot in his cell, yet the pain in his head forced him back down.

A flash of anger swept through Dalton's eyes, and his eyebrows quickly furrowed together in what Spock deduced was frustration.

"Well, if I had listened to that load of shit, you'd still be in the gym right now, and probably dead!" Dalton answered sourly, his arms folded across his chest in defiance.

"Nevertheless, I was explicit in my instructions…"

"Yeah, and your instructions wouldn't have meant shit if you'd died! What were you thinking Spock? Starting a fight with a pack of Romulans? Are you insane?" Dalton questioned, exasperated. Spock rose an eyebrow, he did not consider himself clinically insane, he had just reacted to the situation emotionally, and because of it, he had injured himself.

"It was not my intention to engage in a physical altercation with the Romulans. However, I was unable…" Spock trailed off as he struggled to finish the sentence. To admit he had been emotionally compromised yet again was difficult.

"To control your emotions?" Dalton finished for him in a knowing voice. "It's okay, Spock, I really don't care if you're the world's moodiest Vulcan ever, I'm not gonna get on your case about it," Dalton assured him firmly.

Spock stared at him a moment before looking down at his hands. He did not wish to speak about this; about his failure to control.

"You have diverted the subject; I asked you why you saw fit to disobey my wishes."

Dalton rolled his eyes before fixing Spock with an amused, yet gentle stare. He did not realize how much he missed being stared at in such a way. Since Spock had cut ties with Dalton, the only stares he acquired were cold and hateful, and most of the time, promised some form of hostility towards him. With Dalton, it was nothing but friendship and amity. It was the closest thing to the _Enterprise_ he could acquire at Doradus.

"Because Spock, I'm your friend. Like it or not, I care about you. I know what Jacques has told you, how you're dangerous for me, how you'll just end up getting me hurt?"

Spock looked up, his gaze imploring.

"You think I didn't know the dangers that came along with being your friend? You think I didn't know the risks?"

Spock did not answer. He knew enough about humans now to know when a question was rhetorical.

"Of course I knew them Spock, but a friend like you is _worth_ those risks. Worth those dangers. And I'm not gonna let a tiny, stupid thing like some fucked up Cardassians mess that up," Dalton paused to consider something. "You know, when you first got here, Jacques wasted no time in telling me who you really are. He told me about the Enterprise, how it's the most famous ship in the fleet. He told me about this Captain Kirk. He told me about your career in Starfleet, that you were considered the best First Officer in the Fleet, he said that it just made you an even bigger target, and that I should stay away from you," the human paused again and stared at Spock, "but do you think that matters to me? Because it doesn't. You could be the Head of Starfleet, Spock, and I wouldn't give a shit," Dalton deadpanned.

Spock felt the corners of his mouth quirk into as close a smile as he would allow himself at such a heartfelt confession. The small gesture however, sent a sharp pain through his head which was still throbbing unbearably. He winced slightly, which caused Dalton to frown but continue his speech nonetheless.

"Friends don't do that to each other Spock, they don't bail when the going gets tough," Dalton finished warmly, placing a hand on Spock's forearm so that he could feel his emotions. _Youaremyonlyfriendhere_ Dalton sent through the link with a smile.

"You are not the only friend I have had who has voiced something of similar opinion to me," Spock commented quietly, still reeling from the speech the human had just gave him.

"Well, it's good to know at least someone has their head on straight out there," Dalton joked.

"Mr. Cor—_Dalton_?"

Dalton's eyes lit up as the Vulcan referred to him by his first name. It was interesting how that behavior had also been exhibited through Jim at the same gesture. "If I may, how long have I been unconscious?"

"Like a day, maybe? You missed your shift in the mines, so I'm sure you'll be penalized for that, one way or another…" Dalton answered in a regretful tone. Spock could not help but dread what punishment the Warden had in mind for occasions such as these.

"How…how did you know where to find me?" That was the real question Spock wanted an answer to. He had been so sure that had he not died, that the other inmates would have taken advantage of his inability to defend himself. Spock internally shuddered at the thought.

"I overheard Jacques and Baker talking about the fight at dinner. They mentioned you, and said you'd been beaten up pretty bad and he wouldn't be surprised if you were still there, out cold. I faked feeling nauseous and came straight to the gym. Of course the place was deserted except for you lying in the middle of the floor in a pool of blood, a couple of Orions lingering over your body, and doing some pretty weird shit by the way, which I knew couldnt've been good…"

Spock averted his gaze to the wall. He knew Orion promiscuity had no bounds, and he was eternally grateful that Dalton had saved him from such a fate as that as well. To have been violated by the Orions was not something he wished to come to pass.

"I see," Spock stated simply, lost in his thoughts.

"I couldn't just leave you, so I ended up dragging you all the way back to your cell…" Dalton paused and glared at him, "which was fucking hard by the way! who would've thought you were such a fat ass! You can't tell it to look at you!" he finished in feigned frustration. Spock knew him well enough to know that he was not being serious; yet, he could not help his reply.

"It is my bone and musculature density, due to the gravity of my former home planet…" Spock began, fully prepared to spout out a long explanation in their physical differences, but Dalton was waving him down with a smile and light roll of his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, and anyway, I dragged your lard ass back here. I happen to know a guy who knows a guy, so I cashed in some credits for some medical supplies, and fixed your head up. I'm not a doctor, but I did the best I could. Several times, I thought you'd died because your heart rate was so low, but I guess that has something to do with that trance thingy?" Dalton gazed at Spock questionably.

"Indeed," the Vulcan answered simply, assuming the human would not want to hear a lengthy explanation of the particulars of the Vulcan healing trance.

Dalton nodded. "And, well, you know the rest…" the human finished with a sigh and sat back on the cot, touching Spock's leg with his hips as he did so. Spock regarded him thoughtfully.

"…Why are you looking at me like that?" Dalton asked warily, but with a brightness in his eyes.

"I wish to thank you, Dalton. I am…immeasurably grateful for your assistance," Spock answered sincerely, but the inflection of deep gratitude in his reply was not lost on the human, who smiled back at him sheepishly, his cheeks taking on a deeper shade of red.

"No need to thank me, Spock. You would've done the same thing."

Spock could only stare at him in agreement, for if the situation had been reversed, he we would have done exactly that.

"What about the matter of Mr. Jacques?" Spock finally asked after a lengthy moment of silence. Dalton suddenly looked anxious.

"About that…" Dalton had started to say as he ran a hand through his hair.

Suddenly, the voice of the man in question boomed through the cell. "Here you are! I thought I told you to stay away from him!" Jacques seethed as he barged into the small cell, a few humans flanking him. Spock felt a wave of resentment from Dalton.

"You told me I could fix his head up!" His friend yelled back as he came to stand defensively in front of Spock, who had tried to rise as well, but was pulled down by the immense pain that bombarded his injured head. It did not help that Dalton had placed his hand on the Vulcan's chest, which was softly pressuring him to stay lying down.

"I said you could put a bandage on it, but after that you were to return back to our block. And yet here you are, in cahoots with Starfleet's half-breed!" Jacques snarled.

"Don't call him that!" Dalton seethed, his eyes enraged as he abruptly stood.

"He is what he is! And he's dangerous, Dalton! What if you had been in that gym with him? It would be your skull splattered all over the floor along with his. Only you'd be dead!" Jacques continued to argue, and while Spock felt a strong dislike for the human in front of him, he could not help but agree with the human's assessment. However, he refused to rehash that. Dalton had already acknowledged these risks, and if he wanted to take them, Spock would not stand in his way. It had obviously proven ineffective in the past. The human was just as stubborn as his captain had been in similar endeavors.

"To constantly refer to what you humans coin as '_what if_' factors, is illogical. Dalton was not in my company during the altercation, and therefore it bodes no basis in this argument," Spock attempted from his prone position on the cot.

Jacques broke his focus on Dalton to glare at him. "And what about what you told me, Vulcan? How you wanted me to keep him away from you at all costs? Are you going back on that now? And here I thought Vulcans actually meant the shit they said," the older human spat in disdain.

"Regardless of what I might have said two months, five days, twenty-three minutes, and ten seconds ago; circumstances have indeed changed. In an ideal setting, I would rather not have Dalton affiliate his time with me, but as a consenting adult, his decision, I have realized, is not mine to make. If he wishes to be in my company, I will not thwart his attempts, as he seems to have…a_ knack_ for finding himself in my company in any case," Spock countered as he glared at the older man before him.

Dalton however, was beaming at him.

Jacques turned to look at Baker who stood beside him with wide eyes, who in turn was staring at Spock in pure disgust.

"Can you believe this shit, Baker?" Jacques prompted the man.

Baker's lips went very thin and his eyes narrowed into slits.

"Regardless of what you believe, it does not change the validity of my statement. You are not Dalton's parental figure, nor are you a legal guardian," at least Spock did not think so."And while I admire your continued attempts to protect him, the fact of the matter is, he is free to make his own choices. By restricting him from doing this, you will no doubt cause him to rebel even further," Spock furthered stoically, using his own behavior while turning down the VSA as an internal reference.

The man known as Baker glared icily at him, and Spock did not fail to notice his fists clenching at his sides. Aggression seemed likely at this point.

"Spock's right, Jacques, I'm an adult, not a fucking child, I can choose who I want to hang out with," Dalton agreed vehemently.

"Think about this Dalton…" Baker started, his hateful eyes never leaving Spock's.

"I HAVE THOUGHT ABOUT IT!" Dalton bellowed as his cheeks reddened with anger. Spock winced in pain as the sheer volume of Dalton's voice provoked his raging headache.

Baker finally snapped his eyes to Dalton and fixed him with the same icy stare. "Obviously you haven't!" Baker spat through clenched teeth and made to move towards Dalton in what Spock deduced to be a threatening manner. Ignoring the pounding pain in his head, Spock forced himself up off the bed to stand between Dalton and the approaching human, who halted in shock.

"What, you…you think I'm gonna hurt him?!" Baker asked, flabbergasted. "I wouldn't lay a finger on that boy's head you son-of-a-bitch! Besides, you've pretty much got that department covered, don't you?" he accused in a vexing tone.

Spock raised an eyebrow. "On the contrary, I did not actually perceive that you would show Dalton physical violence, however, I deduce that your intentions are to remove him forcibly from my company. This, I cannot allow," Spock rebutted, his tone deathly flat.

"Spock…" Dalton cut in nervously from behind him.

"You might be _Vulcan, _Spock, but you've just had your ass handed to you by the Romulans, and don't think I didn't notice the effort it took for you just to get your ass out of that bed. We outnumber you eight-to-one right now; your chances are slim to none," Baker threatened as Jacques folded his arms over his chest smugly; obviously happy with the turn the conversation had taken. In the next few seconds, the other humans who had been halfway into the cell from the corridor began filling the space. The act was very reminiscent of what the Cardassians had been doing on a routine basis whenever they entered Spock's cell to _attack_ him, and it made him shiver slightly.

Spock considered the human's very obvious threat for a physical altercation, and deduced that the chances of him actually winning against the humans, was eighteen point two percent. Baker was correct; he was still quite weak from his head injury despite the healing trance. If the humans wanted to overtake him, they could probably do so quite easily. However, Spock was not known to back down from a fight if it meant protecting a friend or a comrade.

"While your chances of subduing me are in your favor, rest assured that I will be successful in causing injury to a substantial number of your party. You may also rest assured that you, Mr. Baker, will be among this party," Spock fired back in as icy a tone as he could muster. If he was going to go down, he would take that human with him.

Baker's fists clenched again, and his eyes narrowed even further as he made to close the distance between them. It was Dalton's voice however which halted him in his steps.

"No, Stop! Fighting isn't going to do anybody any good," Dalton argued in a defeated tone. "I'll go with you Jacques, you can call your dog off," he agreed somberly as he made to stand between Spock and Baker, his hands outstretched between each of them.

Spock's eyes widened slightly. "Dalton, I must insist against this decision. You should not be made to go where you do not…" Spock started, but Dalton cut him off.

"This is my decision, Spock, and it's been made, okay? I'm not gonna sit back and watch you guys duke it out over something so petty," and here Dalton turned to glare at the humans before turning back to Spock, his eyes immediately becoming gentle again. "You said I can make my own decisions, so let me make them…" he finished quietly as he gave the Vulcan a half-hearted smile. Spock opened his mouth to rebut, but closed it after a brief consideration. Dalton was correct, it had been his decision to make, and he suspected that no physical injuries would befall the young human in the company of Mr. Jacques and his men; therefore, it was only logical to concede to his decision for the time being, thought he was not comfortable with it at all.

"Very well," Spock stated simply, turning his icy gaze back to the other humans who were looking quite satisfied with the turn of events.

"See? I knew you'd come around," Baker joked as he went to ruffle Dalton's hair with his hand. The human flinched away hatefully before whispering something angrily under his breath.

"The only reason I'm agreeing to this bullshit, is because I don't want my friend hurt anymore, and that's it." Spock knew that Dalton had not wanted him to hear his words, but had obviously forgotten how sensitive Vulcan hearing was.

Baker smirked at him before urging Dalton forward by the shoulder, the other two humans in the room flanking them.

Jacques however, lingered behind, which was illogical. There was no need for the human to remain in his cell.

Spock decided to say as much. "I suspect our business has concluded here, Mr. Jacques," Spock stated darkly as he came to the conclusion that he could no longer tolerate being in the human's presence.

"Indeed it has. Indeed it has," the man said smugly as he nodded approvingly to himself before turning and making his exit as well, and just like that…Spock was alone again.

((oOo))

Just as Dalton had warned him, his absence from the mines due to his incapacitation did not go unnoticed, nor unpunished, by Warden Brixton.

"You think you can just work when you please? Whenever it suits you?" the Warden seethed as he landed another fist against Spock's face, which was already bleeding profusely. The sheer force of it caused his head to throb in agony due to his still very much fractured skull. He attempted yet again to answer the query constantly being posed to him.

"As I have stated, I was incapac…" again, he was abruptly cut off by another sharp blow to the face. Spock's head reeled in unfathomable pain, for his skull was still very much fractured.

"Your excuses do not interest me _Vulcan_, I don't care if someone cut your fucking legs off, you are expected to work diligently in the mines, _Diligently!"_ Brixton yelled angrily as he came to kneel before Spock who was lying in a crumpled heap on the floor. He was nose to nose with Spock, and looking him straight in the eye. Certain that he would likely be struck again for keeping eye contact, Spock averted his gaze to the floor. It would not bode well to keep acquiring physical assaults so close to his injury, or the healing trance he had just come out of would all be for nothing. It was not as if he could slip back into one either. Dalton would not be able to bring him back out if he did since he was now with Jacques for an indeterminate amount of time.

"I will accept any punishment you wish to bestow upon me for my unacceptable behavior, Warden," Spock replied simply, knowing full well that that was what the man wanted to hear, and at this point he would do anything to get the beating to stop.

"Goddamn right you'll accept it, you've got no choice," Brixton rebutted as he turned away from him in disgust and steepled his fingers on his chin, a strong indicator that he was thinking about something.

"Hmmmm let's see, what would be a just punishment…" Brixton muttered to himself as he began pacing back in forth in front of him. The two guards flanking him chuckled slightly at Spock's predicament. He had learned that they often enjoyed it when the Warden singled him out and abused him.

A full thirty seconds went by before Brixton's eyes widened gleefully, and he clapped his hands together for emphasis. Spock could not discern why, but he was strongly reminded of Dr. Edison by the gesture.

"As of right now, your credits have been revoked and you won't get them back, and any credits you acquire for the next two weeks from your mining shifts will also be taken from you. Obviously you don't take your work seriously, so credits must not be your priority. You don't work? You don't eat."

Last year, Spock might have protested this treatment, and even spouted off a logical argument of why the very notion of starving him was in all intents and purposes…_illogical. _But it was no longer last year, it was the present, it was his life now, and while he knew how important it was that he obtain nourishment, it would not be logical to argue that fact to the Warden.

"Yes sir," Spock answered obediently, his gaze still on the floor on front of him. A firm hand however, gripped his chin harshly, which sent waves of anger and disgust through the contact. His chin was then brought upward until he was looking the man in the face. Spock resisted the urge to wince as the hostile emotions assaulted him.

"Wouldn't you say that this is an acceptable punishment? Don't you agree that deserve this?" Brixton implored him, and narrowed his eyes. He was obviously anxious to hear the Vulcan's response. Spock had been at Doradus long enough to know that the Warden's question was indeed what human's coined a _trick question_.

Illogical as it was, the actual answer that Spock wanted to give would indeed actually be the incorrect choice, and he knew that if he responded truthfully, he would only stand to be punished physically again. Yes, he had come to know this routine well. "I find your terms acceptable, Warden. I have warranted them," Spock lied begrudgingly, though he kept his tone impassive, yet obedient.

Brixton smiled before thrusting his chin away, and slapping him softly on the cheek. The act of which sent waves of satisfaction through the contact. He then pushed Spock's head roughly to the side in disgust.

"Get this half-breed out of my fucking sight," Brixton intoned lazily to two guards who then made to move toward him.

"Wait," Brixton cut in, putting his hand out to halt them. "On second thought, I think our Vulcan needs a bath," and here he glared down at Spock. "It would do him well to…_soak_ his injuries," he finished with as mischievous a smile as Spock had ever seen on him. The gesture sent chills down his spine. He did not know what the Warden meant by the term '_bath', _but it could not be good. At all.

Snickering, the guards roughly heaved him off the ground by his arms, and shoved him out of the room and down a hallway, which lead to the sanitation room he had been brought to upon his first day here.

Off to the side of the room was the old-fashioned, terran bathtub he recalled on that first day. Most Vulcans had never actually seen a bathing tub before, and the only reason Spock recognized it at all was because his mother had insisted on having one installed in their home on Vulcan when he had been a child. His mother had often bathed him in it when he had been a toddler, but he had grown to detest it. It was universal knowledge that Vulcans did not like the water. Being submerged in a container with it was definitely not amicable to Spock, yet it seemed that that was exactly what was about to take place.

"Take off your clothes and get in," one of the guards ordered brusquely as they shoved him forward yet again so that he stumbled into the room. Spock resisted the urge to question their motives vocally. He knew it would only result in a beating.

Keeping his eyes downcast, Spock divested himself of his clothing and walked towards the tub on the left side of the room. He spared an uneasy glance at the guards before he slowly seated himself in the tub. One would not know it to look at it, but the tub was actually quite deep, and his head barely came over the brim of it.

He sat there awkwardly with his knees against his chest, feeling extremely vulnerable and exposed. The guards moved closer to him, and one of them kicked the tub lightly with his boot before speaking. "Well? Haven't you ever sat in a tub before? Lean back, or I will do it for you." The man threatened as he removed his baton from his person. Spock did not need to be told twice.

The touch of the cold metal that the tub was constructed of made him shiver involuntarily as he made to lean his back against it, and he could not help but feel utterly helpless when he noticed the old fashioned metal restraints attached to either side of the tub's walls. Satisfied, one of the guards walked closer, leaned down and grabbed Spock roughly by the arms. He then placed them in both of the restraints; he then did the same with his ankles in regards to the attachments which lined the other end of the tub.

Once again, he was struck with the insatiable urge to question what was about to be done to him, but he firmly clamped down on the urge. Whatever was going to happen, he would find out soon enough. He could not change it, so it was logical just to endure it as adequately as possible.

Soon enough came too soon though in Spock's opinion, as the hose that was used on him the first day was brought forward and thrust into the tub. Seconds later, icy water began to blast its way out of the opening of the hose, and it took exactly four minutes and forty-five seconds before the water had completely immersed him up to his neck. It was cold, unbearably so, and Spock could not help the violent shivering that had started envelop him as his temperature, which had once been resting at an uncomfortable yet acceptable eighty-eighty degrees, was now dropping into the eighty-fives. His temperature back on the Enterprise had always lingered around ninety-one degrees.

He thought it would not, _could not_ get any worse, but when another guard emerged at the doorway holding a suspicious bucket to his chest, he began to inwardly panic.

"Got the goodies!" The man exclaimed as he walked inside and towards Spock's tub, a manic smile on his face. He barely had time to wonder at the bucket's contents before the man was heaving said bucket up in his arms and flinging its' contents into the tub.

Ice. That was what the bucket contained. And as soon as it hit the water, Spock let out an involuntary pained gasp as the temperature plummeted drastically. It felt like he was being stabbed with a thousand needles all at once as the ice rolled and floated around him in the water. The feeling, which felt like an eternity but only lasted a few seconds, quickly transformed into a numbing sensation which started in his toes and fingers and slowly inched its way up through his entire body.

His temperature had become so low that Spock wondered if he would experience Hypothermia, that was, if he had not done so already. In addition to low body temperature, his heart rate had also slowed to unacceptable levels, and the world around him he noticed, had begun to move in slow motion.

It was an odd yet, surreal feeling, lying there, so cold that he could no longer discern tactile sensations by way of his appendages. He attempted to turn his head to the side to see where the guards were, but his body seemed to be having a delayed reaction to his own mental commands, for it took far longer than was comfortable to actually turn his head. Or maybe he just perceived it that way. Spock did not know, and the longer he spent submerged in the icy water, the quicker he found that he was starting not to care either. His eyelids dropped, and his vision clouded, making it hard to discern anything anymore. Would this be how he would die? Numb and tethered in a tub full of ice? It was certainly not the way he had imagined.

"_Jesus—fuck_!" Spock barely made out from a voice that sounded like it was miles away.

"_What are…get him ou…he's Vulcan…kill him…_" The jumbled words continued to sound as they grew closer to him, and suddenly, he felt a strong sense of vertigo grip him as his body was roughly pulled up and out of the tub. He managed to open his eyes slightly and saw human arms gripping his own, though he could not feel the contact, neither physically nor mentally. That should have disturbed him; however, he was beyond caring, so he simply shut his eyes again from sheer exhaustion.

The feeling of someone slapping his face repeatedly brought him abruptly back to coherency. "Don't let him fall asleep! What the fuck were you two thinking? You can't leave a Vulcan on ice that long? Fucking idiots!" The man currently slapping him in the face yelled irately. For a fleeting moment, Spock thought that the third man now in the room actually cared for his well-being, but his next words stomped out that idea immediately.

"Could you imagine what Dr. Edison would fucking do to us if we let his prized subject fucking die? Can you!"

Spock felt his now frozen heart sink unbearably low.

So that was the real reason he was taken out of the ice tub, so that could remain a test subject for purposes he still could not fathom.

"Help me dry him off. Fuck!" the voice bickered again in irritation. Spock watched through bleary, detached eyes as the men hastily towel dried him. At first he could not even feel it, but as the seconds ticked by, a painful stinging sensation erupted in his hands and feet. The needle-like feeling was back with a vengeance, and Spock could not help but whimper in pain.

"Shut the fuck up, or I'll give you something cry about!" the man screamed at him as he began pulling Spock's shirt back on while another guard replaced his pants. The stinging sensation had grown to encompass his entire body now, and he could not quell the violent shivering that had emerged as a result. The top of his fingernails and toenails felt as if someone was driving sharp objects through them while the rest of his body felt as if he was being stabbed repeatedly with numerous blades. He wanted warmth. Needed it. Craved it like a dying animal craved life.

Panicking, Spock reached out and grabbed the guard who was currently hovering over him, cursing, and brought him to his chest in a desperate, instinctive embrace. The man's body heat practically radiated off of him, and Spock needed that warmth, yearned for it desperately to satisfy his frozen, agonized body. Faintly, he could feel disgust and surprise through the weak mental contact, but it was not enough to force him to let go. He did not want to let go. His body was so cold, and the body in his grasp was so warm.

Warmth. Heat. It was all he cared about.

"Ge-Get this fucker—get this fucker _off_ me!" the man screamed as Spock crushed him closer to his person, attempting to absorb as much heat as possible. There were shouts and protests for him to let go, but Spock ignored them. They did not understand! He was so cold!

Abruptly, a sharp, electric jab to his side forced him to let go of the squirming guard who immediately fell backwards out of his embrace, panting heavily from the struggle.

Angered, the man kicked him harshly in the stomach, which caused Spock to double over in newfound pain. Nevertheless though, he still reached out for the human and his warmth. He was still so cold.

"Get him the fuck out of here!"

"Should we send him to Medical?"

"No!" The man cut him off vibrantly. "I don't need Edison or the Warden to catch wind of what we, of what _you two_, almost did. Send him back to his cell, he'll survive."

Spock was not exactly coherent when he was beamed back into his cell, and groping the floor and cot for something, _anything_, that would bring him more warmth. His blanket was long gone by now, and he was still shaking violently. His entire body still stung with bitter, agonizing cold. It seemed like no matter what he did, he could not effectively raise his temperature up to an acceptable level. They had said he would survive, but he did not see how. At this rate, unless he found a means to warm his body, he would die in no less than fifteen minutes.

The _means_ that he eventually found however, were so disdainful that he wondered if death would have been preferable.

Five minutes had gone by as Spock shook uselessly on the floor of his cell, tightly hugging himself to initiate more blood-flow, even though it was having little to no effect. Mischievous chuckling from the opening to his cell brought his trembling head up where he noticed Norkot smiling at him, Seska and another Cardassian lingered behind.

His vision was spotty as he continued to meet their gazes, and he was very aware that it would not be long until he lost consciousness…for good. In a flash, Norkot was leaning in front of him, gripping his chin tightly, and speaking to him. However, Spock could not make out his words. He had become too dazed and disoriented. He could barely feel anything besides the sharp stinging raining down upon him.

Everything that happened next, happened in segments and pieces. He knew that he was being raped, for he could feel the violent thrusts and plunges that he had grown so accustomed to, he could even faintly make out their repulsive, mental signatures; but he was so disoriented that it felt more like a dream than anything real.

Well, not a dream, but a nightmare.

As the hot, sweaty bodies of the Cardassians rubbed and pushed violently up against him, he could not help but lean his own body into their touch, not matter how painful or violent that touch was. They were so warm against his freezing flesh, and with death creeping just around the corner, his body had let go of all dignity in order to survive. He needed their warmth or he would die. It was as simple and primitive as that.

He did not know how long he laid there, his body nothing more than a useful orifice for them to thrust into. He was vaguely aware of them taking their turns with him, passing him off and around to be violated again and again. But with each new warm body, more warmth in turn began to flood through Spock's once hypothermic skin, and he no longer felt the stabbing sensations any longer. He had survived. He had shamed himself to do it, but he had done it nevertheless. He would not take his last breath today.

When they had finished with him, Spock was grateful to find his temperature restored to an acceptable level. He was still cold, but he was not near death any longer.

"Well, well, Vulcan. I might actually think you enjoyed that, even though you weren't really conscious for most of it," Norkot snorted in amusement as he pulled his cock out Spock's mouth and, with his hand, slapped him affectionately on the cheek. Another Cardassian, who was busy holding Spock's ankles together over his shoulder while he plunged fiercely into his posterior, finally climaxed and also withdrew from Spock, utterly spent. Spock's body ached anew again from the violent assaults that had just been forced upon his person.

_How long have they been assaulting me?_ He thought in a daze.It felt like it had gone on for hours! Had it?

Being that he was not in any threat of dying from hypothermia any longer, Spock could feel nothing but repulsion and guilt at his actions, despite their necessity. He had not enjoyed it, not at all. But he could not deny that without the Cardassian's sexual assault on his person, he would probably be dead right now.

_Perhaps though, it would have been better to die than to deal with this shame. _Spock thought in disgust as the Cardassians took their leave of him. He lay there on the cot, feeling thoroughly used and violated as the freezing chill which had assaulted him earlier finally began to abate. Somehow though, Spock felt even colder than before. He had not died today. No, he had done what was necessary to survive. But somewhere, something inside him, a piece of his soul, had died.

((oOo))

Spock had only lasted a week before the effects of not eating had really started to take a toll on him. Just recently he had started experiencing bouts of disorientation and severe fatigue. Whenever he found himself suffering these symptoms, he would take deep breaths and try as hard as possible to will the hunger away. It worked sixty-five percent of the time. He was Vulcan after all, and he should be able to go lengthy amounts of time without sustenance if he was forced to. Although, being the kind of place that Doradus was, Spock rarely found himself able to properly act like a Vulcan anymore.

Not being able to trust himself around food, Spock found himself avoiding the mess hall at all times. He suspected it would be another week at least following the final week of his punishment before he was able to purchase sustenance again. This would be the time required for his credits to accrue enough to even make such a purchase again.

Spock had never gone so long without food, and he had to admit that the prospect of not having it for another two weeks was making him nervous. Here, above all places, nourishment was a vital necessity. To be denied it was illogically terrifying, and he had never realized how much he had taken for granted when he had been a free Vulcan. Before, he had been able to eat whenever he wished to, and whatever he wanted, and as much as he wanted. It was fascinating how much he could appreciate that simple privilege now that he had been denied it.

His hunger quickly became the foremost of his thoughts at all times of the day. When he did manage to sleep, his dreams were of food, and when he was awake, the smell of food would assault him no matter where he was, even if there was no food around. It was hard to accept that now he was reduced to hallucinating about it. Pathetic, that such a thing could make him this desperate.

Before long, Spock found himself heading speedily towards the sanitation room more frequently as the days passed. He had found that when his Vulcan control failed him in suppressing the pain-staking hunger that stabbed at his stomach, an ice cold shower always served as a suitable distraction. Spock knew it was illogical to subject his body to the possible hypothermic temperature of the water, especially after his near-death experience with the ice bath, but he would much rather feel the discomfort from subpar temperatures than from being hungry. It was not as if the water from the shower's head was as cold as the ice bath's water had been. It was discomforting, yes, but the constant hunger was doubly so.

It was by this reasoning, that Spock found himself heading there at the moment.

As he drew closer to the room, the dreaded familiar tingle of a Cardassian mind assaulted his senses to such a degree that he actually stumbled forward before halting. A sick, cold feeling dropped into the bottom of his stomach and he whipped his head around to see if he could spot his tormentors before they were upon him. Being sexually assaulted was _not_ something he wanted to experience today, especially when he had been surprisingly successful in avoiding the dreaded aliens all week since his shame-filled encounter with them in his cell after the ice-bath.

Deciding that they were not in eyesight of him, Spock cautiously moved forward towards the mental signature. It would be logical to pinpoint their location so that Spock would be more successful in remaining unnoticed.

Eventually, his journey brought him to just outside his original destination, the sanitation room. He went to stand right outside the entrance, and craned his ears in order to hear them more adequately. The sounds of laughter and taunting could be heard from inside, and further investigation proved to Spock that they were indeed _toying_ with yet another helpless victim. He did not know why he did it, but Spock found himself inching closer to gain a better sense of what was going on, much too curious to walk away now.

"Your _brother_ oversteps his bounds. He is quite aware of where our turf begins, and his ends. You will pay for his arrogance," Norkot's voice carried sadistically from inside the room. Just the sound of it sent a wave of nausea through Spock, making him feel ashamed. He was Vulcan. He should not let the mere sound of a voice evoke such an emotional response from him.

"You will not touch me, Cardassian! Will you really risk the wrath of my brother? Do you know what Lokar will do to you?" a female voice retaliated venomously, and Spock knew immediately who it was. It was T'Vara, Lokar's sister. Until now, Spock was unaware that the two factions were fighting against one another.

The sound of Norkot's venomous laughter sounded from just inside, and vibrated through Spock. He felt the Cardassian's glee radiate from his mind, and again, Spock felt revulsion at having Norkot's emotions pouring through him non-consensually. It was almost just as bad as the sexual assaults themselves.

"I do not worry myself with Lokar, my sweet. A Romulan is no match for me, now, about this payment we were discussing," Norkot continued dangerously, and Spock heard their feet begin to shuffle. They were moving towards her.

"No! Do not touch me!" T'Vara screamed angrily as the sound of a fist slamming into a face became audible. The Romulan female had obviously struck whoever had approached her, as the pain-filled gasp was undoubtedly male.

"You whore! You will pay for that!" Norkot yelled viciously as the sounds of struggling became extremely audible outside the room. For the first time in a long time, Spock found himself at a standstill of what to do. A part of him wanted to just walk away from the sanitation room, and let Norkot and his miscreants do with T'Vara what they will. After all, it was logical to assume that she and her brother would do the same thing. In fact, Spock knew they encouraged the assaults that the Cardassians made against him. Relished it even. So why should he risk himself in assisting her?

Then again, another part of him was repulsed by the idea of Norkot doing to another sentient being what had been done to him, and what was_ still_ being done to him on a near weekly basis.

It took him three point six seconds, far longer than it should have, to come to a decision. While T'Vara was his enemy, and her brother, and even bigger one, he could not allow her to be sexually assaulted. It went against everything he had been brought up to believe in. Everything he stood for.

Closing his eyes in concentration, Spock reached out with his mind to discern exactly how many Cardassians were lingering within the room. If he was going to take them down, he would need to know his chances before deciding on how to proceed. It took some effort to separate the mental signatures into individuals, but in the end he was successful. Aside from Norkot, there were only two others in the room with him. Far fewer than usual. Although, perhaps Norkot made sure the numbers were greater when he dealt with Spock, who was Vulcan after all, and far stronger than T'Vara.

Crouching slightly, Spock chanced his head around the opening to the sanitation room to get a better look. The room was empty save for T'Vara and the three Cardassians. The two who had accompanied Norkot were standing side-by-side, their backs to Spock as they watched the unsightly scene before them. Norkot had already had a naked T'Vara on the floor, her hands pinned above her head viciously while Norkot was getting himself into position to begin his assault on her. Spock bit back the nausea that once again threatened to overcome him at the all-too-familiar sight. How many times did he find himself in this position?

Stepping into the room as stealthily as possible, Spock approached the two aliens who were cheering their leader on vivaciously, and simultaneously applied a nerve pinch to both of them. They had barely even hit the ground when Spock reached forward, yanked Norkot viciously off of T'Vara, and administered yet another nerve pinch which left him falling ungracefully to the tile floor. Spock had wanted to beat him, to hurt him, and maybe even kill him. However, to do so would have been highly emotional, not to mention illogical, and he immediately clamped down on the primal impulse.

His attempt to subdue them had been successful. He had incapacitated the three aliens in less than four seconds. It would have taken longer had he lost control and decided to pummel Norkot to death instead, so he was grateful he had not decided to take that route, as satisfying as it might have been.

Immediately, Spock turned his attention to T'Vara who was still lying naked on the floor, her eyes wide with shock as she looked from the unconscious Cardassians, to the Vulcan who had rendered them so.

"Are you injured?" Spock asked thinly. He still did not particularly like T'Vara, yet he felt compelled to ask. After all, he had just rescued her.

It took her longer than necessary for her to respond, but eventually she slowly shook her head in the negative. Spock wondered why then, she was not getting up.

"Do you require assistance?" He asked again, only this time he found himself thrusting his hand out to help her stand should she require aid. She eyed the hand warily, but accepted it nonetheless. Through the skin-to-skin contact, Spock felt an erratic wave of emotions which consisted of _shock, distress, anger, _and even a small hint of _gratitude. _

He pulled her up easily, and steadied her as she appeared to be slightly unbalanced. When he was certain she would not collapse, Spock took a few steps back and began searching for her clothes as he suspected she would wish to put them back on. He did not know why he insisted on providing this simple courtesy. Perhaps it was because he himself remembered the desperate need to be clothed and covered after such an ordeal. He had not wanted to part with his own attire for the first few months after Norkot's attacks began. He knew it had been illogical, but Spock could not help feeling _safer_ with them on. Perhaps this Romulan would share the same sentiment. They did share a common ancestry after all.

He found her clothes piled neatly in the corner of the stall next to her, and when he presented them to her, she took them quietly, her eyes still peering at him cautiously as she hugged them to her person like a precious gift.

His human half told him that he should say something, lest the silence become unbearably awkward, but his Vulcan half reminded him that there was nothing that needed to be said. Therefore, it was logical that he make his exit. For some reason, a cold shower was the last thing he wanted to do now. Plus, he did not wish to risk being here when the Cardassians regained consciousness, and they inevitably would.

"If you are in no further need of assistance, I will make my exit," Spock stated evenly before turning and walking towards the exit. T'Vara's voice halted him however.

"Why?" She muttered softly, but with a hint of fascination in her tone.

Spock turned back around to face her, his eyebrow raised in perplexedly. "If you would clarify?" he asked as he brought his hands around to clasp them behind his back.

She averted her gaze for a moment, clearly in thought, before turning back around to face him, her eyes utterly curious. "Why did you save me? Why would you do that? I do not understand why you would do that!" She blurted out, her voice becoming more passionate near the end, and Spock discerned she was becoming quite agitated by the pitch her voice had taken on.

Spock regarded her thoughtfully for a few seconds. If she only knew that he had been so close to not saving her at all…

"Regardless of our association with each other, I did not find it morally acceptable to allow you to come to harm at the hands of Norkot, or his comrades. It was only logical that I offer my assistance in this matter, as I was quite able to do so due to my close proximity to this location," Spock replied in a curt tone.

T'Vara gazed at him thoughtfully for a moment. "You do realize they will know it was you right? Norkot will know that a nerve pinch was used on him, and there is only one inmate in this prison capable of administering one of those…" She said in a serious tone, her voice trailing off, but her eyes Spock noticed, had become much softer.

"I am already aware of this," Spock answered immediately, not understanding why it was brought up in the first place.

She gave him a knowing look before answering.

"You know he will come after you, and when he does, he _will_ hurt you. You would risk this?" She questioned, her eyes leveled at him.

"Yes," Spock answered evenly. Her eyes widened slightly at the revelation, and she averted his gaze to the floor. Discerning that the conversation had finished, Spock turned his back on her once again and quickly left the room, not wanting to ponder what the Cardassian would have in store for him next time they met.

((oOo))

Later that night after Spock's exhaustive shift in the mines, which was only exacerbated by his lack of energy, they came for him. There were eight of them waiting for him at his cell when he returned from his shift. Norkot was at the head of them, and the expression on his face was one of pure rage. Spock winced at the sheer strength behind it as it assaulted his mind. The other prisoners who were in the same vicinity looked at Spock remorsefully before they hurried to get as far away as possible from the gang of aliens bombarding his cell.

Spock paused about thirty feet from them, feeling as though a bucket of ice had been dumped over his head. The hate and anger radiating off of them through their mental signatures was overwhelming to say the least, and Spock knew he would most likely end up regretting his aid to the Romulan earlier. That would be, if he made it out alive.

Norkot did not miss his hesitancy to continue forward, and snaked his ridged finger out in front of him, motioning for the Vulcan to come closer. It was definitely a demand, and while Spock could choose to run away, and might possibly even be successful in the endeavor, but it would only be for a short time. They would catch up with him eventually, especially given his current energy expenditure from lack of sustenance. It seemed logical to Spock to just, _get it over with_.

Taking a deep breath, Spock resumed walking towards them, glaring at them as he did so, inside however, he was terrified. He held his head high in any case. If he was going to go down, he would do it with as much dignity as he could muster.

When he came to be within five feet of them, three of the aliens lunged out and grabbed him, forcing him into his cell. Once inside, he hit the other side of the wall ungracefully as they threw him forward, but immediately he was attempting to right himself to face his attackers. He managed to knock two of them down, but was overtaken by Norkot, who had taken his knee to Spock's face, crashing right into his nose. It bled freely now. He then followed it up with a severe blow to the Vulcan's head; right where his still healing skull fracture was located.

Agony ripped through Spock from the merciless blow to such an injury, and his vision blacked out momentarily while his head swam with newfound, white hot pain.

"Think you'll make a fool of me?!" Norkot raged as he brought another knee up into Spock's stomach, this time sending him to the floor.

"Think you can meddle in my affairs?!" He shouted again, landing a swift kick right where Spock's heart rested. Spock sputtered in pain as he struggled to breathe.

"Do you!?" Again, more swift, forceful kicks. Spock thought it would never end, and all he was aware of was pain, a massive amount of pain. But eventually it did end. Disoriented and out of breath, Spock felt Norkot's fingers tangle in his disheveled hair, and roughly snapped his head back as he leaned down and breathed into his ear.

"I'm going to enjoy this, you haven't had it like this before, Vulcan, and I promise you, it is going to be exquisitely painful," Norkot taunted darkly as he slammed Spock down on his back and began ripping the Vulcan's clothes from him. They were spared no expense.

Spock shut his eyes tightly, and braced himself for whatever nightmare he was about to be plunged into as Norkot's hands ripped across his skin, trying to maneuver him into position. Suddenly the sounds of shouting and fighting broke out around Spock, and he felt the Cardassian's weight, which had been crushing him, abruptly disappear. It was almost like someone had ripped the alien from him.

"LOKAR! HOW DA—," Norkot had began, but was cut off by an audible blow to the face.

_Lokar? _Spock thought errantly to himself. Unwilling to believe what he thought could not possibly be true.

Opening his eyes, Spock struggled to sit up and backed all the way up until he hit the wall. He was completely flabbergasted by the scene before him. Everywhere he looked, Cardassians and Romulans fought violently with each other. Lokar, he recognized, was engaged in a brawl with none other than Norkot himself, and T'Vara he noticed with surprise, was currently astride the female Cardassian, Seska, her fists pummeling her face over and over. The rest of Lokar's gang, which easily outnumbered Norkot's by at least two-to-one, were engaged in combat with one another, and were fairing quite well.

It was not until some of the Cardassians began fleeing that Norkot began glancing around warily and hesitated in his responding attacks. That moment of hesitation was all Lokar needed to gain the upper hand. It took less than a second to send Norkot sprawling to the floor, gasping for breath.

"You have the _audacity_ to try and rape my sister? To disgrace her in such a way?!" Lokar yelled before sending another kick to the alien's stomach. Just moments ago, Spock had been in that very same position. He felt a primal surge of satisfaction from seeing Norkot helpless and in obvious pain.

"You will pay for your disgrace with your life!" Lokar yelled again as he raised his leg to bring it down to the alien's face, obviously with the intention to crush his skull. But before he could land the kick successfully, Norkot rolled out of the way at the last minute and towards the entrance to the cell. Lokar tried to grab for him again, but the Cardassians that remained behind with their leader helped guide him out of the cell, and a safe distance away from the enraged Romulans. The look in Norkot's yellow eyes as he glared at Lokar was deadly and sinister.

"You have made a death-defying mistake, _Romulan_," Norkot seethed as he wiped the blood from his lips.

"No, you made the mistake by going after T'Vara who was off limits to you, and now, you've made a mistake by coming here to attack the Vulcan." Lokar spat back in barely restrained fury.

Spock could not help but raise both of his now bruised eyebrows at the Romulan who still had his back facing him. Certainly he had not come here with the intention of defending him? As far as Spock could deduce, Lokar hated him completely. Spock had the skull fracture to prove it.

Norkot obviously was just as startled as he was because his eyes widened. "Am I to understand that you actually _care_ about the half-breed?" the Cardassian sputtered in disbelief.

"Yes." The answer was stated simply, yet deadly. "You will not touch him again. And if you do, you will have a gang war on your hands," Lokar threatened.

Spock should say something, he wanted to say something, but between the pain coursing through his body, mainly his head, as well as the utter bewilderment in the change of attitude from the Romulans, he could not mouth a single word.

Norkot however was looking right at Spock, his eyes narrowed into slits.

"Oh, there will be a war alright _Romulan. _And you—," a long, Cardassian finger shot out to point at Spock, "_you_ haven't seen the last of me yet, _Vulcan," _Norkot threatened before he and the remainder of his party stalked off down the corridor. Lokar and T'Vara watched them leave until they were out of sight. They then eyed the growing crowd of aliens in the corridor, who were watching the scene in shock.

"Go about your business! This doesn't concern any of you disgraceful rats!" Lokar screamed at them, and at the tone of Lokar's voice, the crowd quickly dispersed. Spock idly wondered what the guards were doing up in their _watchtowers_ at this moment? Had they planned at all to intercede? Or perhaps they found the fight to be a source of entertainment. This seemed to be the most likely conclusion.

Satisfied, Lokar turned back to regard Spock, his gaze friendlier than he had ever seen it before. "You look like you need a hand," the Romulan surmised as he walked towards Spock, who was already shrinking away, and heaved him up off the floor easily without waiting for consent; much like he had done for T'Vara hours earlier.

_Fascinating. _

Spock paused a moment to make sure he was not going to be attacked before answering. _"_I am…grateful for your assistance," he stated quietly, still shocked at the very different Romulan standing in front of him, offering his aid, versus the one who had hit him with an Olympic Bar Bell in the gymnasium.

"They will not touch you again, Spock. I'll make sure of it," Lokar promised as he motioned to someone behind him. Moments later, one of the Romulans brought forth a bundle of clothing much like the ones that Norkot had just destroyed in his attempt in assaulting Spock, and deposited it in his hands.

"Looks like you will be needing these. They don't have your number on them, but they will have to do will you can purchase another set."

Spock stared at the clothing in his hands in bewilderment. "I…I do not understand. Why are you assisting me? I was under the impression that I was the cause of undeniable contempt."

It was not Lokar who answered his query, but T'Vara instead. "I asked you the same question Spock, and your answer then was that it was the right thing to do," she stated as she came to stand beside her brother, a look of pure gratitude in her eyes. Spock stared back at her.

"I do not believe I utilized those exact words, but you are essentially correct. However, this does not answer my question."

T'Vara rolled her eyes, however, there was no malice behind the gesture; in fact, Spock had seen Jim roll his eyes like that on many previous occasions, as well as Dalton.

"Since you have been here, me, my brother," she paused and indicated the varying Romulans standing around with her arms, "all of us, have treated you with nothing but contempt. You had no reason to help me when Norkot attempted to attack me. In fact, as far as I can see, you had _every _reason to let him have his way with me…"

Spock did not miss the look of fury that flashed in Lokar's eyes at his sister's words.

"…And yet…you didn't," she finished in awe.

Spock stared at her in silence, remembering shamefully all-to-well that he _almost_ had let Norkot _have his way_ with her. _Almost._

"Even though you knew they would identify you as their attacker, you still stopped them. For that? I owe you a debt, I owe you my honor, which would have surely been taken forcibly had Norkot succeeded in his attack," She added sincerely and made to move closer to him. Spock found himself instinctively backing away, and she immediately paused in her advance at the expression on his face.

"My sister speaks the truth, Spock. I was charged to protect her, which I regrettably failed at doing. You protected her where I could not. I owe you a debt as well. You are more honorable than I gave you credit for," Lokar voiced in a grateful voice.

"I assure you, Lokar, T'Vara, I have done nothing worth honoring, and I release you from any debts you feel that you owe to me. They are not necessary," Spock tried to convince them. He had not done anything that he would not have done for someone else. His actions had not been honorable, they had been moral. He had been doing what any Vulcan would have done.

"You can save all that Vulcan chivalry, Spock," Lokar countered with a smirk.

Spock sighed. "Please, I do not wish you to be indebted to me when it is not necess…"

"Then accept our friendship," Lokar finished firmly.

Spock raised an eyebrow. "…I do not wish to be impolite, but Vulcans do not use the term _friend _lightly," he explained as carefully and gently as possible. While he was somewhat relieved that the Romulans were not acting aggressively towards him, he was not ready to accept them as friends. So much had been done against him at their very hands.

"Understandable. We have not been very _nice_ to you since you have been here," T'Vara chimed in, smiling slightly. Spock said nothing, but silently agreed with her. "Very well, at least consent to being an ally? I understand Vulcan friendships are earned. It is the same for the Romulan people. Give us a chance to earn your friendship?" She finished.

Spock considered her offer thoughtfully, and could find no logical reason why he should not have the Romulans as allies. In fact, it was quite logical in a place such as this. For one thing, it was one less hostile alien faction he had to worry about attacking him; and not only that, but the Cardassians obviously were on quite even ground with them. If he was allied with the Romulans, Norkot's chances of attacking Spock in the manner that he had been doing this past year would lessen considerably, if not cease completely. That aspect alone was enough for Spock to agree immediately. The thought of never having to feel the Cardassians skin on or inside him again, made his heart leap illogically.

"I…would find that most agreeable," Spock answered sincerely, which elicited a smile out of T'Vara, and an approving nod from Lokar.

"Excellent. Let us start over Spock," and here Lokar advanced towards him, a smirk on his face, "my name is Lokar, it's a pleasure to meet you."

**A.N. So! What does everyone think of this new devlopment?! Also, I'm writing a one shot right now along with this. It's a prompt off the Star Trek Into Darkness Kink Meme, so I hope to have that posted for ya'll as well in the near future! Thank you for reading! **


	18. Friend Defined

**A HUGE thankyou to my beta, rubyhair. She has been a Godsend to me. I really hope ya'll enjoy this chapter, it was definitely one of the funner ones to write, and, we kind've needed this chapter since this story is so dark. Thank you so much to those who took the time to review. You guys keep the fire stoke you know ;)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek! Lokar is mine though ;) **

Spock sat idly on the floor, staring at the blood-drawn X on the wall across from him. He was attempting to meditate, which, despite his newly formed alliance with the Romulans approximately five days ago, was excruciatingly more difficult than it had ever been before. While the Cardassians had ceased their physical advances on him, Spock surmised that his lack of ability to focus was due in large part to the constant hunger attacking his stomach. He had gone the last fifteen days without nourishment, and it was starting to take its toll on him; mentally and physically. His latest visit to the _Limbo Room_ had not aided matters at all either.

The sound of his stomach reverberating loudly broke what little focus he had been able to attain, causing him to sigh in annoyance as a result. He then clutched at his abdomen, which currently felt like itwas trying to digest his intestines to compensate. What he would not do just to _lick_ an empty bowl that had once contained food. He just wished to remind himself what food tasted like, how it felt on his tongue.

_Food, food, food, food…_

"Is that your stomach? Sounds like an angry Gorn on a blood-hunt," Lokar's deep voice sounded from the entrance to his cell, causing Spock to ball his open palms into fists, and snap his head up. It was apparent that he would obviously not be meditating today. If it was not his stomach distracting him, it was Romulans.

"Are you in need of assistance, Lokar?" Spock bit at him through clenched teeth, barely able to contain his irritation at once again being interrupted. He was not usually aggravated so effortlessly, but being in a constant state of starvation seemed to produce such an effect in even the most logical beings over a long enough period of time.

"I just came by to check on my favorite Vulcan. T'Vara says she has not seen you in the mess hall in quite a while. You're not avoiding us, are you?" Lokar accused in what Spock could only discern as a somewhat sarcastic tone of voice. The Vulcan raised an eyebrow at him before focusing back on the wall in front of him. He was finished meditated, or attempting to, but he did not wish to discuss the mess hall either.

_Where they served food._

_Where food was eaten._

_Food._

"If I wished for your company, I would seek it out," Spock answered in a clipped voice. While he was grateful for the Romulan's intervention with Norkot and his gang, Spock still could not help but be slightly guarded. Lokar had assaulted him as well as Norkot, for no logical reason. While it might not have been to the extreme that Norkot had gone to, he had still acted aggressively towards Spock.

Illogically, he could not help the emotional resentment he felt toward the brash Romulan.

The Romulan in question exhibited a lengthy sigh. "Okay, I get we are not the best of friends, not that I want to be as it is, but I don't see how my _company_ has anything to do with you eating. I would say you've even lost a few pounds since the fight went down with the Cardassians, and that was only five days ago," Lokar accused as he sauntered into the small cell, uninvited. Spock tensed slightly, and fought the urge to immediately go into a defensive stance.

_Control yourself Spock, he is not here to attack you_, he chastised himself.

His discomfort did not go unnoticed, and Lokar threw his hands up in mock surrender, instantly halting himself. "Relax Spock, I am not about to attack you," the Romulan encouraged humorously as he drew his attention to the long dried, bloody X on the wall. He raised an eyebrow as he examined the calligraphy, and caressed his chin in fascination before asking, "you did this yourself?"

"Yes," Spock answered in monotone, and then stood up from his crisscrossed position on the floor. He did not feel comfortable being in such a vulnerable position with Lokar in such close proximity. It did not matter what _alliance_ they had agreed upon.

"It has a certain...morbidity to it, wouldn't you agree?" Lokar was obviously referring to use of Spock's own blood as a writing tool.

"It was logical. I had no other catalyst to utilize."

"To each his own..."

"Once again, Lokar, is there a matter that I can assist you with?" Spock snapped impatiently. Obviously humans were not the only species to, as Jim would have coined it, 'beat around the bush'.

Tearing his gaze away from the X, Lokar peered at him with a sly smile. "Come with me to the mess hall, it would do you well to eat a meal..." he let his eyes roam over the Vulcan, "or two."

"I must decline."

Lokar rounded on him, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I see no, to use your vernacular, _logical_ reason why you should not partake in the evening meal, especially since there will be double mining shifts tomorrow," the Romulan admonished him.

Spock blinked at him, knowing that Lokar's logic was infallible. It was obviously no secret that Spock had been skipping meals, and had Lokar come to him ten days ago, he might have been able to endure being in the mess hall, but now...now he could not possibly tolerate being around food, being so famished. It would be agonizing, especially with his Vulcan control so weak, which seemed to be a common occurrence now.

"To accompany you to the mess hall would be illogical, as I have no means for which to pay for my meal. The credits that I have acquired thus far have been confiscated, and the possibility of receiving any further revenue has been revoked until exactly two more days' time. At that point, it will take me at least another week to procure enough credits to adequately purchase more sustenance," Spock stated bluntly as he glared at the Romulan. He could not keep the accusatory expression off of his face. It was Lokar's fault after all that anything had been confiscated in the first place. If he had not cracked his skull open with a metal bar, he would never have been punished in the form of starvation, and a near-death experience from Hypothermia, which led to…other shameful acts he would rather not dwell on.

"Revoked?! Why? I see you working in the mines just as much as us," Lokar sputtered, and Spock leveled his eyes at him.

"Had my skull not been fractured as a result of being struck with a metal apparatus, I would not have been forced to enter a healing trance, and thus, would not have missed my shift in the mines, which directly resulted in me being reprimanded by the Warden." Lokar he noted, averted his gaze to the floor, and his cheeks flushed the barest hint of green. Spock continued anyway. "This is the punishment he has deemed fit for me, and I must endure it," Spock finished in a seething tone. He was careful not to mention anything about the ice-bath. That particular experience would forever remain a secret to the Vulcan.

He had never seen a Romulan appear guilty, until this moment. To see such a sight was fascinating.

Running his large hand over his bald skull, Lokar finally lifted his gaze back up to meet Spocks. "About that...I'm sor…" he started sheepishly.

"Your apology is not necessary. What is done, is done," Spock cut him off as he turned his attention back to the wall. His stomach decided to at that moment make another sound of protest, and he decided to continue speaking purely to drown out the sound. "In any case, your actions did take place before our...alliance, and to hold grudges is…illogical," Spock added softly, and gazed up at Lokar, still not entirely sure why he felt the need to reassure the culpable Romulan.

Lokar stared thoughtfully at him before speaking. "Well, since it was my fault that you're being punished at all, come with me to the mess hall, let _me_ purchase a meal for you. I've got more than enough credits, and the Warden hasn't said anything about you accepting food from someone else, has he?"

Spock felt his stomach stir at the proposition. "...No, he did not."

Lokar smiled largely. "It is settled then," he stated warmly before gesturing out into the _Prison Pop_ in an exaggerated motion that hinted at impatience. "Let us go, though! Before all the edible portions are gone!"

Spock hesitated.

"This is not necessary, you are not obligated to…" The Vulcan started, never being one to accept charity. He always worked for his keep.

"Do not argue with me, Spock. Just do it," Lokar leveled his gaze at him. "You said it yourself, if you had not had gotten injured, you would have been in the mines that day working. At least, ease my guilt here; and yes Spock, I _do _feel guilty; by letting me get your gangly ass some food!"

Spock pinched his eyebrows together. He did not like being what Dr. McCoy would no doubt call a 'charity case,' but then again, he also knew that if he was going to be at all useful in the coming week, he would need some kind of nourishment. Therefore, it was only logical he accept the Romulan's terms.

"I suppose it is logical," Spock supplied thoughtfully, and the beefy Romulan advanced toward him, and slapped his hand on the Vulcan's shoulder robustly, making Spock tense again.

"That's a good Vulcan!"

As soon as they stepped into the mess hall, Spock felt his mouth begin to salivate as the intense scent of food hit him full force. His stomach growled again as a result, and he resisted the urge to dart up to the closest table in his proximity, and scarf down as much food as his body could handle. He could just imagine what a sight that would be for anyone observing, especially the individual's whose bowl he had stolen.

The room was quite crowded as they walked further in. Of course, that was not surprising, not for this time of the day. Glancing around, Spock noticed with disdain that the Cardassians were all seated at their customary table in the back corner of the room, glaring darkly at him. The gaze on Norkot's face in particular, was vexing, and Spock could actually feel the hostility emanating from him through his weak mental signature. Spock hoped that over time, the link would diminish entirely since the Cardassians no longer seeked him out for..._assaults._ Spock had never been sexually active before Norkot and the others; therefore his knowledge on links created through numerous sexual encounters with the same individual had been limited. It was something Vulcans did not speak of, and it was not like he could ask his father about it, nor his elder self.

The other faces in the room, which usually peered at Spock with indifference, were now gaping at him in shock when they noticed just whom it was walking civilly beside him. The stares only grew as they made their way to the food line, and while Lokar's attention was focused directly ahead of him, Spock could not help but search desperately for the one person he considered a true friend in this place. When his brown eyes finally found him, he was not surprised to see Dalton staring wide-eyed as well, at Spock's rather unusual choice of company. If the human's mouth could hang any lower, Spock would have to assume it had been broken. Apparently, news of Spock and the Romulans settling their differences, and making peace had not traveled as far as he had previously assumed.

"Come on, Spock...we are _not_ waiting in this line," Lokar beckoned him as he firmly grabbed the Vulcan's bicep in an attempt to drag him forward, thereby effectively breaking his attention off of Dalton. A deep feeling of self-assurance ran through the contact, and Spock resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Of course the Romulan would be overly confident in his abilities.

"Move!" Lokar yelled to varying individuals stationed in the line. "Move! Out of my way!—You got something to say?" Lokar threatened to an annoyed looking Orion and his two companions as they both, well, mainly Lokar, shoved their way through the line. Not wishing to fight the Romulan and a Vulcan, the Orions hastily shook their heads in the negative.

In all the past allotted meal times, Spock and Dalton had never _cut_ before. The very idea of it was offensive to Spock. It was not logical to procure a place in line that did not belong to him initially, but he was so unbelievably famished that he found he did not care. Plus, that was the egotistical, conniving, and shrewd Lokar currently leading him. It would be illogical to try and change that particular aspect of his personality this early in their acquaintance, if ever at all. If he wished to eat today, it was only logical to just _go along_ with it.

It seemed like no time at all before they had made it to the check-out station, and the human inmate who stood somberly on the other side, eyed Lokar speculatively. Lokar wasted no time in informing said human that he would be, "getting the Vulcan's meal today," and to, "scan his wrist twice."

Spock eyed the tray of food in his hands as they stood at the end of the line, Lokar peering around for his comrades no doubt. Barely a year ago, Spock had scoffed at this meal, and refused to eat it. Now he could hardly fathom doing such a thing. Right now, this tray was the most amazing thing he had seen in a long time. This tray held what he desired the most at that moment, and it took every ounce of self-control he had to keep from shoveling the food into his mouth with his bare hands, despite Vulcan abhorrence to using one's hands to eat. Onlookers be damned.

Lokar's gang all but fell over themselves to make room for the two as they took their seats. Spock felt extremely uncomfortable sitting in such close proximity to the other Romulans who had assisted in making his life a living hell, but he did not let it show on his face, which remained impassive. T'Vara was seated directly next to him, and oddly enough, went out of her way to make sure she did not touch him, or invade his personal space. It was a very different T'Vara than the one he had dealt with on every other occasion prior.

_If only Lokar would mimic her actions_, Spock thought in slight annoyance as the muscled Romulan in question landed another hand on his back in an expression of exuberance. Jim used to do the same thing in his past life.

But this is not Jim, whose touch I grew an affinity for…yearned for…craved…

"Dig in!" Lokar encouraged enthusiastically, effectively breaking Spock's train of thought before beginning on his own meal with gusto.

Spock eyed his own plate hungrily before picking up his utensil and taking the first bite he had taken in fifteen days. As soon as the first morsel had been successfully chewed, and was making its way down his esophagus, Spock closed his eyes in deep satisfaction and actually groaned in pleasure. It was a very human thing to do, but it could not be helped. He had dreamed of this moment every night for the past week.

Despite his previous comments about the quality of the Prison's food, nothing had ever tasted so wonderful to Spock before now, and he quickly found himself lost as he attacked the meal in front of him. Spock was ravenous and with the taste of food in his mouth, and he could no longer hold back. He attacked his meal as if it were a wild Le-Matya, no longer aware of the Romulan's observing the scene, his awareness zeroed in on his food. All he cared about was getting the delectable food into his stomach.

T'Alim chuckled while T'Vara and the other Romulan's gaped at his very non-Vulcan manner of eating; he actually appeared to almost be Romulan in that moment. "Slow down, Spock. You will likely choke at that rate," T'Vara commented in amusement.

Suddenly he realized the inappropriateness of the way he had been devouring his food. If they had been Vulcans instead of Romulans, they would have been deeply offended by his lack of control.

Spock blushed a slight green as he fought to swallow the mouthful he had just forced into his mouth. After about thirty seconds, he could speak again. "I do apologize, I seem to have more of an appetite than I had previously ascertained," he admitted with a hint of chagrin in his voice.

Lokar laughed, and took a rather greedy bite out of something resembling some form of bread. His mouth full, he opened his mouth to speak. "If I hadn't eaten in two weeks, I'd probably be feasting on one of you imbeciles by now," he said through a mouthful of food to his comrades. Some of them laughed nervously at his comment, like he might actually carry out the threat someday.

It did not take Spock long to finish, and when he realized that there was no more; he could not help the feeling of disappointment leaking through him. Despite having eaten, he was still quite hungry.

Setting his utensils down in a pristine sort of way that made T'Vara roll her eyes, he turned to Lokar. "I must offer my gratitude to you for procuring me sustenance, it is very much appreciated," he stated gratefully, and he meant every word. Even though he felt like he could still eat another ten trays of food, he could not deny that he was already starting to feel better from having something actually digesting in his stomach.

Lokar rolled his eyes and chuckled lightly. "You Vulcans and your incessant need to drag out a sentence, a simple 'thank you, oh mighty Lokar,' would have sufficed."

Spock raised an eyebrow, but remained silent.

"Hey, what became of that human you constantly had tagging along after you?" T'Alim questioned casually. Spock had deduced that he was the person who was second to T'Vara in Lokar's affection.

"To which human are you referring?" Spock stated evenly, knowing exactly who the human in question was. Spock fought the urge to glance across the mess hall to exactly where Dalton was sitting.

"You're talking about the mouthy one, right?" Lokar confirmed through another mouthful of food.

T'Alim nodded. "Yes, I think his name was...was..." he pondered aloud as he searched the ceiling for his answer. Curious, Dalton often did the same thing. Spock resisted the urge to remind the Romulan that he would not find his answer on the ceiling.

"His name is Dalton Corwin, and we are no longer in acquaintance," Spock said with a hint of sadness in his voice that did not go unnoticed by T'Vara.

"I heard about what the Cardassians did to him; surely he does not hold a grudge against you for that? It was hardly your fault," she scoffed.

Spock inwardly bristled. If she knew Dalton, she would know he would never be that vulnerable to such petty emotions.

"While his anger would be most welcome for the events that transpired on that day, that is not the reason why we are no longer speaking," Spock hesitated. "His group…"

"Edison's humans?" Lokar asked, truly interested.

Spock gazed at him questionably. He had never heard of them referred to that way by Dalton, but perhaps the young human was not aware of the alias coined for them by the other aliens at Doradus.

"Excuse me?" Spock asked sharply, his eyebrows peaked.

"Edison's humans," Lokar reiterated as if Spock should know what he was talking about.

"If you would clarify what you mean by referring to them in this way?" Spock tried again, growing impatient.

"He means that they're the group of humans that that sadistic human calling himself a Medical Doctor favors for experimentation," T'Vara paused and glanced at him thoughtfully. "_After you_, of course," she finished, her tone becoming sympathetic.

"I see," Spock concurred, knowing all too well what the humans suffered at the hands of Dr. Edison. It was why they hated the Vulcan so much, being that whatever it was Dr. Edison was doing when it came to Spock had a direct effect on them. The thought of it still succeeded in keeping Spock awake most nights. "Then, to answer your query, yes, this is the group I speak of. Dalton, it seems spent the majority of his time with this group before my arrival here."

"And let me guess, they didn't like it?" Lokar surmised sarcastically.

"Undoubtedly so. They believed my association with him to be a dangerous one. It angered Mr. Corwin, and he disbanded from their group."

"He doesn't look so disbanded right now," T'Alim stated, his head standing tall and peering in Dalton's direction. Spock followed his gaze and saw Dalton sitting in-between Jacques and Baker, his head bowed despondently. It was obvious he was not enjoying his time in their company.

"The humans feel an innate need to protect Mr. Corwin. So much so that they have forbidden him to associate with me, lest he come to harm. I agreed with them initially after the Cardassians..." Spock's voice trailed off, he did not feel like sharing that memory, and decided to skirt past it. "In any case, I was in agreement with them, for they could offer him protection that I could not. However, I came to realize that Mr. Corwin was most unsatisfied with his relationship with them, and despite the risks involved, wanted to permanently leave their group. They would not allow this. And...I was not in a position to stop them, for they outnumbered me, and I was injured at the time," Spock explained dejectedly. Despite his new-found alliance with the Romulans, which meant having other individuals to hold an amicable conversation with, Spock found he missed Dalton greatly. And judging by the depressed slump in the human's shoulders across the hall, Dalton felt the same way.

"So...you're saying that this Dalton kid, that he doesn't want to be with them, that he'd rather be with you, and they won't let him?" Lokar reiterated as if he were restating a passage from a text.

"Indeed," Spock answered, wondering if he had been un-clear in his explanation, or if Lokar had developed hearing problems from being in the mines for so long, or maybe he was simply defective. The suddenness of that last thought made Spock think briefly of his own sanity. He shook his head to be rid of such troubling thoughts.

Abruptly, Lokar shoved himself away from the table and made to stand. T'Alim and several of the others, including T'Vara, repeated the gesture. It was as if an unspoken command had been uttered.

"May I ask your intentions?" Spock asked quickly, both eyebrows standing erect in alarm.

Lokar paused to look at him. "We are not friends, Spock. You've made that abundantly clear, but I'm willing to bet that that kid is your friend, right?"

Spock hesitated at a loss for words. He did not particularly wish to reveal his emotional attachments to strangers, which was what the Romulans were to him at this stage in their relationship.

Lokar evened his eyes at him and nodded.

"Uh-huh, there's my answer right there. Consider this part two of my apology for crackin' your skull open, Vulcan," Lokar finished firmly as he and his party started making their way over to the humans who were starting to look overly nervous at their hasty approach. Unsure of what was about to happen, Spock found himself speedily following them.

"It is a fine evening, isn't it?" Lokar jibed as he and his group, including Spock, began surrounding the humans who were glancing at each other warily. Spock felt his insides clench. He did not take pleasure in eliciting fear in others. Nevertheless, he remained silent.

"What's going on?" Baker questioned anxiously as his eyes fell onto Spock in sheer confusion. To them, Spock was supposed to be a target for the Romulans, and here he was, standing equally beside them, clearly unharmed.

"Rumor has it, you're keeping that boy there—," Lokar indicated with a pointed finger to Dalton who was staring up at Spock with wide, bewildered eyes, "here against his will?"

Baker opened his mouth to rebut, but Jacques beat him to it. "I mean no offense towards you, but our business doesn't concern you, Lokar, nor does it concern the Federation's half-breed standing beside you," the older human stated firmly, his eyes narrowing at Spock.

"Watch your mouth, human!" T'Vara snapped, shocking the human as well as Spock. Had they not called him the exact thing? And on numerous occasions? However, Spock did not comment on the matter. He would ponder it at a later date.

"From what I have been told, this human, Dalton's your name, yes?" Lokar began as he looked at Dalton who blushed.

"Uh yeah, yeah that's my name," Dalton answered sheepishly. The sound of his voice, which Spock had not heard in some time, was refreshing to him.

Lokar grinned a toothily. "Dalton there is good friends with my newest friend Spock, here."

Spock looked pointedly at Lokar who had braced a large hand on Spock's shoulder to emphasize his point. Had he not just stated that the two were not friends barely a minute ago? He did not get a chance to question this development though, for Lokar was not done speaking.

"Which makes it his business, which in turn, makes it my business," Lokar finished, and he narrowed his eyes at Jacques who flinched under the gaze. "So, if you don't mind, and you'd better not if you know what's good for you, the boy will be coming with us."

"Like hel…" Baker started to shout, but Jacques shot his hand out and clenched the other human's shoulder tightly, effectively silencing him. He knew the human did not want to risk getting into a brawl with the Romulans, who not only outnumbered them, but were superior in strength as well.

Lokar and his gang continued to stare the humans down, daring them to argue. Spock felt it necessary to add his own voice to the conversation.

"Dalton, would you care to join me?" he asked simply, meeting the younger human's gaze.

Dalton smiled largely at him. "Sure as hell would," he answered in satisfaction right before shooting out of his seat, and making his way towards Spock. As he passed Lokar, he thrust his hand in the air. "Up top, man!" Dalton said playfully, which to Spock, meant he was nervous, but Lokar merely glared at him. Spock inwardly groaned at his human friend. He could tell Lokar was only willing to put up with the human for Spock's sake. Dalton soon realized this as well. "...Or leave me hangin' that's cool too," he trailed off before coming to stand by Spock with a dramatic look of relief on his face.

Spock resisted the urge to smile. It was good to have Dalton by his side again.

"Hey buddy. Thanks for springin' me," Dalton leaned in and whispered to him as they began moving away from the humans who were staring stupidly after them. Spock did not fail to notice the audible groans of disappointment coming from the surrounding tables. They had obviously wanted to see some sort of fight.

They would not see one today though.

"Your choice of terminology is as always, quite confusing, but I believe I, as you would say, get the gist of it," Dalton smiled. "You are welcome," Spock added.

Dalton chuckled at him before squeezing his shoulder affectionately. "I missed you, Spock."

"I found myself experiencing something similar, I assure you."

Not only did Dalton laugh at his statement, but T'Vara was laughing as well, albeit a small laugh.

Dalton gazed nervously at her before leaning in closer to Spock. "Man, you are _sooooo_ gonna have to explain _this_ to me." the human stated as he indicated the surrounding Romulans with his arms. "I swear, Jacques is probably shitting his pants right now," he added as an afterthought.

Spock found the image of such an act unpleasant. "Indeed?"

"Indeed," said the laughing human.

((oOo))

After returning from the mess hall, the Romulans bid their farewells, which were slightly awkward, and departed Spock and Dalton's company. Wanting to make certain he would not be cornered with Dalton in his cell without the Romulans around to offer assistance if needed, Spock suggested they linger just outside of it so that he could keep an eye on the rest of the Prison Pop for incoming threats.

"Logical, Spock," Dalton said in amusement.

"I endeavor to be so," Spock answered simply.

Still feeling slightly fatigued, Spock leaned his back up against the wall lining the corridor, and slid down its length until he was sitting on the floor, his head resting wearily against the cold stone. It was a very unusual position for the Vulcan, but he could not deny the small sense of comfort it brought.

Dalton slid into place beside him, mimicking his gesture.

A few moments went by where neither of them said anything.

"Okay. Spill it," Dalton prompted, effectively breaking the silence.

Spock raised an eyebrow. "If you would clarify?"

Dalton huffed in annoyance. "Back there, Spock? What the hell was that? And how in the fucking hell, did you suddenly, oh, I don't know, become best buds with the guy who tried to bash your brains in?" Dalton shouted, exasperated as he rounded to face Spock who stared back at him calmly. He knew it would not be an easy conversation, but he would attempt an explanation in any case, and a logical place to start would be with Warden Brixton.

"It was not long after you departed my company that I was beamed _upstairs_, and reprimanded for missing my mining shift, as you surmised that I would be," Spock had started, his eyes staring straight ahead.

"He beat you, didn't he," it was not a question, but a statement. "I can tell by how fucked up your face is," Dalton added somberly as he reached out a hand to trace a bruise along Spock's jawline. Immediately Spock flinched backwards and away from the touch out of reflex, causing Dalton to retract his hand as though it had been burned.

"I'm sorry." Dalton apologized quickly, his eyes downcast.

Spock shook his head guiltily. "Please, do not apologize. I did not mean to exhibit such a reaction. I just, I would rather not be touched. It is illogical, but…" Spock began, finding it tremendously difficult to find the words he wanted to say.

"I get it Spock, you don't have to explain anything to me. Everyone who has touched you in this place has either beaten you, or raped you." Spock winced. "I wouldn't want anyone touching me either. Vulcan or not." Dalton finished, and Spock, despite his chagrin at the sexual reference, was impressed by his perceptiveness. For that was exactly why Spock did not want to be touched. It had nothing to do with Dalton, just everything else.

Before Doradus, touch was simply unwanted because of telepathic transference. However, there were still people like Jim whose touch he had come to yearn for. Now though, it seemed that whenever Spock had been touched, with it came unbearable pain, mentally and physically. Dalton, he knew, would never touch him with the intention to hurt him, especially in the way the Cardassians had done. But he could not help the fear that gripped at him whenever contact was established. The instinct to shield one's self came to him more rapidly now, than the logic that would tell him it was unnecessary.

Before…it had been exactly the opposite.

"I…thank you for understanding," Spock said quietly; softly.

"Okay…so on with your story?" Dalton prodded him encouragingly.

"Ah yes," Spock permitted himself a deep exhalation before continuing. "You were correct in your first assumption. The Warden did indeed beat me, though these bruises you see now were given to me by Norkot, not the Warden."

"Figures," the human spat out of the side of his mouth.

Spock continued on. "As punishment for my absence from work, all of my existing credits were revoked, and I would also not be able to accrue any more credits for a period no less than two weeks."

Dalton's jaw dropped and he gaped at him. "Two weeks? But—how the hell are you supposed to eat!" He shouted as he abruptly stood up, his hands on his hips, clearly frustrated. Spock kept his seat; he was too tired to get up. It was nice on the floor.

"I believe the purpose of the punishment had been to demonstrate that eating was a privilege that I took for granted."

"It's not a privilege! It's a fucking basic necessity, but whatever…" Dalton rambled heatedly.

"In any case, not being able to attain sustenance had a graver effect on me that I had first anticipated. As a result, I began avoiding the mess hall as much as possible. One way to tolerate my cravings…was to saturate myself in water. As Vulcans do not care for the substance, it was an agreeable way to temporarily alleviate my discomfort." As he had done with Lokar, Spock decided to leave out the 'ice-bath' ordeal which had inevitably led to a very unpleasant experience with the Cardassians, as well as almost dying. Such knowledge was shameful to Spock, and he knew it would only upset the human.

Dalton was looking away from him now, a frown set on his face as he slowly shook his head. "I'm sorry Spock, that you've had to suffer like that…I should've been there. I would have given you food just like I did after..." he suddenly looked uncomfortable, "well you know…after that bond thing."

"It was out of your control, Dalton. It could not be helped."

"Of course you'd say that."

"Besides, it was during one of my numerous ventures to the sanitation room that I came across T'Vara being accosted by the Cardassians. They were…attempting to sexually assault her," Spock went on impassively.

Dalton interrupted him with raised eyebrows, and a knowing look in his eyes. "And lemme guess, you had to be a fucking hero and _'offer your assistance,'_ the human surmised sarcastically, mocking Spock with surprising accuracy.

"I do admit, there was a point when I considered leaving her to her fate…"

"I would've…" Dalton muttered, but Spock ignored him.

"_However_, I had a moral obligation to provide my assistance, no matter what she had done against me in the past. I could not let her suffer that which I have suffered endlessly since arriving here," Spock turned his body in such a way as to better face the human. "Can you understand that Dalton?" he implored him intently.

Dalton looked at him thoughtfully, as if trying to decide. "Because it's you…I guess I can understand. It's one of the reasons I like you so much, despite the shit you've gone through here, you still just…your just so fucking _good_ in a place that just brings out the bad in everyone."

Spock tensed from Dalton's assessment of him. He had wanted to kill Norkot back in the sanitation room. He had wanted to make him suffer. There was nothing good about it as the human claimed. He was mistaken; this place had brought out the bad in him.

"I have not seen this bad you speak of in yourself," Spock countered expertly, not wanting to voice his inner thoughts.

Dalton blushed slightly before getting back to the subject at hand. "So you saved her, and she what—owes you now?"

"It was not spoken in that venacular, but that is essentially what they have concluded. Norkot, after regaining consciousness and realizing who had incapacitated him, had come here to confront me, hence the bruises on my face."

"Ah I see. Makes sense now."

"Lokar and his comrades appeared before they could…" Spock let his voice trail off, "their timing was impeccable," he settled for, carefully skirting around the subject of his almost-rape. "I was wary to accept their friendship as I have accepted yours. However, we have decided to strike a truce, an alliance so-to-speak," Spock finished, and when he looked back up at Dalton, the human was smiling at him, an unreadable expression in his eyes.

"I'm-I'm honored that you consider me a friend."

Spock raised his eyebrows in confusion. Surely the human knew that Spock was his friend long before now? If he did not, then Spock would have to divert more effort into building up his communication skills; they were seriously lacking.

"Dalton…you have been my friend for a considerable length of time now. Did you not know this?"

Dalton laughed lightly before sliding his body back down against the wall. Spock followed him with his face, impatient for an answer.

"Oh I know, Spock. I've known for a long time, you've just never said it out loud before. It's good to hear things like that, you know? Especially from a Vulcan."

"Ah. I see now," though he really did not. "I am sor—," Spock started, wanting to apologize for not letting the human know verbally. He should have remembered that humans were sometimes like this. They needed confirmation through the spoken word, not just through actions.

"I swear to GOD, Spock…if that's a _sorry_ that's about to come out of your mouth, I will kick you in the balls," Dalton threatened with a sigh, though his voice was lacking the necessary hostility associated with such a threat.

"I would persuade you not too, as this would cause me further, unnecessary injury," Spock replied, a slight quirk in his lips which caused the human to burst out laughing.

He laughed for exactly twenty-two seconds before speaking again.

"Damn Spock I missed you!" he said mirthfully as his laughter began to die down.

"Your absence was definitely felt," Spock explained, and Dalton looked pointedly at him.

"Yeah I can see that, all over your face," Dalton's tone rapidly became serious. The lighthearted mood it seemed was gone.

"It is of no consequence. They will heal in time," Spock persisted. Dalton frowned and appeared as if he might add something further, yet he refrained. "Perhaps you should make your way back to your cell. I suspect that Roll Call will be taken shortly. It would be disagreeable to miss it," Spock offered as he heaved his protesting body off the floor.

Dalton nodded at him. "Yeah you're probably right. See ya' tomorrow?"

"I will meet you at the entrance to the mines," Spock informed him. He still would be unable to purchase sustenance, therefore it made no sense to meet him at the mess hall, and he could not expect Lokar to continue paying for him.

Dalton however, narrowed his eyes. "What, no breakfast?"

"As I have already informed you, I do not have the credits to attain a meal, therefore I will—,"

"I'm buyin' Spock," Dalton interrupted in a voice that left no room for argument.

"Negative. I would not ask you to—," Spock tried anyway.

"So the Romulan can buy your meal, but I can't? I would've thought _I_ would've gotten to first base before him, Spock."

Spock quirked his eyebrows, honestly confused by the last part in Dalton's statement. "…First base?"

Dalton chuckled and waved him down. "Figure of speech, Spock. Now I expect to see you bright in early tomorrow morning…at breakfast."

Spock could see that there was no point in arguing the matter further, and nodded curtly to the human whose smile could have rivaled Jim's. Could have.

"Great! It's a date! See ya Spock!" The human boomed cheerily as he ran off in the other direction, garnering curious gazes as he did so. Spock stood there, staring after him a few seconds before retreating into his cell to await the Roll Call. Despite how the day had started out, it was definitely shaping up to be one of the best days at Doradus that he had experienced thus far. His stomach was full of the evening's meal. He could see now that he had gained a true alliance among the Romulans, and he had gotten his friend back who he had missed more than he cared to admit.

Yes, today had been very good, and tomorrow he had another meal to look forward to which was making him illogically excited and anxious at the same time. He errantly wondered, as the scanner scanned his optic nerves, if he would continue to react this way around food, or if it was just a brief side-effect.

Only time would tell.

**So, finally a happy chapter! I mean, as happy as I can make them. It might be a little over a week before my next update. I've got finals coming up, and, I really need to concentrate on those, lest I fail! Thank ya'll for taking the time to read, and, as always, penny for your thoughts?**


	19. Toreador

**A big shout out to Rubyhair, who just out does herself everytime she gets a hold of my chapters. Also, thank you to my lovely reviewers, your words really stick with me throughout the weeks. Also, to musicality, thank you so much for the song rec! I cannot write without music, and that song has been on repeat for the past two hours now. It makes me smile to know someone actually listens to the 8tracks playlist for this fic! Now, I'm going to put a lengthy authors note at the end in response to a question from a reviewer about why Brixton is so careless with Spock's safety despite how important he is to Edison. If you read the note at the end, It's my explanation I gave her in their character differences in case anyone was confused about it! Thank you so much for continuing to read this story!**

**Warnings: Graphic Sexual content (consensual though) ahead, also swearing. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek, and I don't own Vampire the Masquerade video game, which is where I got the Toreador name from.**

**Chapter 19**

**Toreador**

**U.S.S Enterprise**

**Stardate 2261.244**

Warren Pierce liked to think of himself as an exceptional private investigator. There wasn't a case he hadn't been able to crack, and if he was going to be honest, it had definitely made him cocky. He felt like he could take on anything that anybody decided to throw at him.

So, when the famous Captain Kirk had come into contact with him almost six months ago to investigate into the case surrounding the dead, former First Officer of the Enterprise…he'd been more than willing. In fact, he probably would've done the entire thing _pro bono_ had the young captain thrown a fit about finances. But, Starship Captains weren't broke. No, Starfleet paid them well, so credits hadn't been an issue. In fact, there weren't any issues at first. Those didn't come till later.

"Can I help you sir?" a young, attractive female greeted him as he waltzed into the quaint little restaurant where Captain Kirk was supposed to meet him. He had never met Kirk in person, just over sub-space. And to be frank, he was pretty surprised the captain had been able to divert the Enterprise to Starbase sixty-six so this meeting could take place. He had been so sure he would've had to break the news over the channels, which, wouldn't have been ideal, but that's what he resigned himself to. A lesser man would've wanted to break the kind of news he was going to be dishing out over channels; but not Warren.

So when Kirk came back and asked if he could possibly grab a transport shuttle to this particular Starbase, as it was the closest the Enterprise could get to Earth, he had said yes. And he'd been dreading this meeting ever since.

Plus, after everything that had happened on Earth, everything that he'd found out, everything that he'd been warned against; he really did need to get away from that place.

"Yes, I've got a reservation for two…under Pierce?" Warren posed in half question. He was horrible at making reservations, despite all his other skills. It would definitely suck if he had to break this news out in a random alley because they couldn't get a table.

"Ah yes! The gentleman you're meeting is already here waiting for you, follow me?"

Warren inwardly groaned at that. He thought he'd at least have several minutes to prepare himself for what was to come, to figure out how to break the news that was surely going to upset the man.

He followed the woman all the way back to an inconspicuous corner of the restaurant, no doubt chosen by the captain himself so they wouldn't be overheard. Kirk hadn't noticed him yet as they walked towards the booth, so Warren took his time to study him.

He definitely didn't look as young as he did a little over a year ago, and Warren would know. He'd watched all the media footage surrounding Spock's case and Kirk had been plastered all through that. It wasn't so much that he looked _old_ old. No, it was more in the eyes. They looked aged, haunted even. Like an old man that had seen the many horrors life could dish out. Warren continued to watch the man stare blankly at his untouched drink all the way to the table. When they were finally within a few feet, he peered up and smiled largely, all traces of his previous despondency gone.

Kirk rose exuberantly, and thrust a hand out as Warren stepped up to the booth, the hostess already making her exit back to the front of the restaurant. "Mr. Pierce! It's good to finally meet you in the flesh!" Kirk greeted warmly—such a drastic shift from the mood he'd just witnessed—and again, Warren felt a pang of guilt cut through him. This was the kind of guy you'd go and hang out with, have a few drinks together, perhaps watch a football game on Sunday night. Knowing he was about to crush his dreams in a matter of seconds was making him feel like shit. However, he found himself thrusting out his own hand, and mimicking the smile. Warren could shift his moods just as speedily as Kirk could.

"Likewise Captain Kirk, I have to say though, transports are a bitch," Warren commented with an air of feigned annoyance. Small talk was always the way to start these things.

Kirk chuckled as they both sat back down. "Yeah, it's a good thing I've got my own ship. I don't have to deal with public transports."

Warren raised an eyebrow in interest. "So, I guess the famous Enterprise is floating up above us then?" Warren asked as he indicated to the ceiling with his eyes. He was perfectly aware he was just stalling now, but fortunately, the man obliged him with a warm smile. Such a sharp contrast to the depressed looking man he'd seen moments ago staring down his drink.

"Yup, she's up there, but most of her crew are enjoying a bit of shore-leave. Though, the majority of them hate me right now for picking this Starbase out of all the other locations I could've chosen. But, it was the closest one I could get to Earth that wouldn't throw us off course, and have the Admiralty up my ass," Kirk commented sourly as he took a sip from his drink. His feelings towards the _Admiralty_ made perfectly clear in that one statement.

Kirk let his drink fall back down with a soft thud before he cautiously looked around, and then leaned in towards Warren who shifted uncomfortably. So, this was it then.

"I don't take it you flew all the way out here to talk about my ship, Mr. Pierce," he started as he leveled his gaze at Warren. "What've you found out so far in your investigation? I have to tell you, it's been nerve racking waiting this long for it since we agreed not to discuss your findings unless it was in person. And…after the last two investigators I've hired just up and quit on me…" he let his voice trail off as he ran his hands through his dirty blond hair.

_And I'm about to be the third…_

"Listen, Captain Kirk…" Warren started as he fixed his gaze on the man's glass of water, it was easier to look there, than in those startling blue eyes.

"Sir? Can I get you something to drink?" A waiter cut in as he came to stand just beside their booth. Warren hastily shook his head and waved the man off. The waiter eyed Warren disdainfully before disappearing.

"This sounds like bad news," Kirk deadpanned, and stood up straighter in his seat, his friendly moody abruptly shifting into indifference.

Warren had to hand it to him, he was perceptive. "What I came here tonight to tell you…" God this was fucking harder than he thought it was going to be. "What I needed to say, was that I can't do this investigation anymore." There. He'd said it. It was out in the open. His end of the agreement had been sated. He wished he could flee now, so he wouldn't have to keep looking into those desperate, shattered eyes. But things were never that easy.

"What?!" Kirk blurted out, his expression becoming infuriated. A few tables away, people turned to stare. Warren watched, slightly fascinated, as Kirk turned and smiled at them, thereby assuring them that there was _nothing to see here_, and snapped his head back around, his eyes blazing. "What do you mean, _you can't keep doing this investigation?_ I'm _paying_ you to do this."

"I understand that, Captain Kirk. But, I just can't do it anymore, it's not convenient for me, and, I'll wire back all of the credits you've given me thus far since the job wasn't completed," Warren said in monotone. He just needed to get through this, and then it would be done, and he could go back home to his wife and kid, who were the whole reason he was calling it quits in the first place.

The captain's face got considerably redder, and Warren shifted uneasily in his seat. This man was not someone he'd want to take on in hand-to-hand combat if it came to that. "Not con…" Kirk paused, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath before continuing. "Not _convenient?_ You're a private investigator. That's your fucking job. _Convenience_ should have nothing to do with it!" Kirk hissed as he leaned in ever so closer.

"I know that Kirk! Believe me, I do! But this case is going nowhere! I've met a dead end. There's nothing. Zilch! It would be a waste of time and credits to continue," Warren lied, and damn could he lie well. Because, that wasn't the real reason why he was calling it quits. The _real_ reason, was because of what he'd found, and the people who'd realized he'd found it. All it took was one trip to an obscure Starfleet lab in the Appalachian Mountains for everything to suddenly become fucked up and dangerous. Who would have thought that Starfleet was into Genetic Engineering? He couldn't believe that Starfleet was actually involved in a Eugenics program!

He had been in that lab barely twenty minutes, but it was enough to know that obviously, Starfleet had taken an interest in creating Super Soldiers, so-to-speak. And this Commander Spock had been a key name on a shit load of data files he'd managed to get a hold of. Feeling that he had overstayed his welcome, Warren had uploaded as much data onto his custom made PADD as he could, and took off back to his flitter that he had hidden in the forest. He hadn't been able to make sense of what he'd found, but he knew he could do it when he got back to his office.

Except, he had never made it to his office.

He'd been cornered by three jump-ships, and asked—none-too-politely, to vacate the vehicle. Of course he'd done as he was told, shaking like a leaf the whole time. He might have balls, but he wasn't stupid. He'd obviously stepped into something big too, because these guys were definitely Starfleet, and they had been on him like shit to a blanket. It hadn't been two seconds later when someone had taken him out with a phaser stun, which had hurt like a fucking bitch, and he'd woken up in some interrogation room; hooded people standing all around him. It had been like one of those action holos his son always bothered him to go see.

It had been simple really. They'd known he had been working for Kirk, because they'd been tracking the correspondence. He had two options: The first one was; they would lock him up for trespassing on private, Starfleet property. Or; he could call off his investigation, and inform Captain Kirk that he could no longer be of service. So, Warren did what any gentlemen would do in that situation.

He told them to go fuck themselves.

That had only earned him a surprising punch to the jaw, and a split lip. The next option they had given him was considerably more pricey; either he break off the investigation, or they would kill him, and then go after his family. That one had taken him off guard. This was Starfleet, and weren't they supposed to be the good guys? Granted, Marcus had been a royal dick, but he and a million others had been told that that kind of shit had ended with him.

Obviously, he'd been wrong.

Warren remembered that night like it was only yesterday, because it was the night he'd lost faith in Starfleet. He would have expected this from the Romulan or the Klingon Empire, but not fucking Starfleet. But he had a wife and young son, and as much as he wanted to crack the lid open on this thing, whatever it was, he couldn't risk them.

So, he'd begrudgingly agreed not to spill the beans, and then they'd told him that when he did break the news to Captain Kirk, to do everything in his power to convince the man to stay on the Enterprise. Warren had been confused by that. Did they seriously think that Kirk was going to up and quit the fleet just because he'd quit being his PI?

However, if the desperate, pleading expression on the man in question, currently seated across from him, was anything to go off of…yes, yes he probably would.

"Mr. Pierce…please," Kirk's tone shifted from irritated into desperate as quick as lighting a match. "Please don't quit on me, you're the last person that would've accepted this case. Believe me, I've sent subspace messages to every investigator in San Francisco, and _you_ are my last option. Please, _please_ don't quit on hi…I mean…me. Please don't quit on me," Kirk pleaded in a frantic tone, which sounded so awkward coming from the famous captain his son took every open opportunity to read about. Captain Kirk was his son's—Dillion's—hero. To Dillion, Kirk was like a God; strong and powerful. But the Kirk in front of him looked like neither of those things at the moment. He looked devastated by what he was hearing, and it he was slightly thankful Dillion wasn't here to witness it, to know that even heroes have breaking points. The way Kirk was looking at him right now? It was as if Warren really had been his last hope.

To put it simply, Dillion looked up to Kirk; worshipped the ground—_or, space really—_that he flew around in. Because of Kirk, Dillion tried his damndest to get good grades in school. _One day, I'm gonna have my own Starship too daddy! Just like Captain Kirk! _His boy always told him, and Warren had believed that his son could really do it someday. Hell, he was the smartest kid in his 3rd grade class! And here Warren was, tearing his son's hero down; the one man in this universe that could inspire that kind of dedication in his son, his only reason for breathing, from light-years away.

God, life could really be a bitch.

Warren sighed heavily and placed his hands on the table. _Judy and Dillion, think about them,_ he told himself as he searched for the words he wanted to say. "I'm sorry Captain, I just, I just can't…I wish I could explain it better, but I can't…" he answered in the most sympathetic tone he could manage. Starfleet had him bugged after all. They were there at the damn transport station, telling him that he was to wear it at all times so that he didn't let something slip. It was about the size of a speck of dirt on the inside of his shirt collar; barely noticeable. But it felt like a big-ass fucking sign to him glaring the message: **HEY LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT ME!**

Suddenly Kirk was fixing him with a suspicious stare, like he'd put two and two together. And why the hell shouldn't he? The man wasn't the youngest Captain in the Fleet for nothing. Warren inwardly groaned.

"They got to you, didn't they? Whoever is behind this entire thing got to you," Kirk started in a knowing tone. The desperation from earlier was gone. In its place, veiled fury.

Warren didn't have an answer, he _couldn't_ answer. But apparently, his facial expression said it all. Well, at least the bug couldn't pick _that_ up.

Kirk sighed audibly and placed his face in his hands. "Godammit!" he snapped in just above a whisper.

"I'm really sorry…" It was hard watching this, and knowing he was the cause.

"I guess I can't blame you, can I?" Kirk laughed bitterly, but before Warren could form a response, he was rambling again. "Obviously this is something I'm gonna have to do on my own. I knew flying around out here in space for five years was fucking ludicrous, after what those sons of bitches did…"

And here it was, Kirk doing exactly what they'd told him he'd do. Which was step down as Captain of the Enterprise to carry on the investigation by himself. He could feel it coming.

"Kirk…" Warren started, trying to formulate an argument to convince the man to do otherwise. As much as he'd like Kirk to quit the Fleet, and come back to Earth to kick some corrupted ass, his family was more important right now. Not to mention, it would crush his son if _Captain Kirk_ quit the Fleet.

"I should have stepped down as Captain right after Spock died. I should've handled it right then and there, instead of wasting time up here…" The captain was more or less talking to himself right now, Warren completely forgotten.

"Kirk!" Warren voiced audibly, and again, people were staring, including Kirk. Warren ignored the onlookers. "Whatever you do, _do not_ step down as Captain of the Enterprise. That ship needs you…"

"My friend. _Spock_. Needs me too…" Kirk had started in bitter rebuttal, but Warren cut him off. He didn't want to play this card, but he was going to have to.

"Spock is dead, Kirk," Warren blurted out, making the young man wince. It was a harsh thing to say, even if it was already common knowledge, obviously the Vulcan meant a great deal to this man. But it had to be said, and, it wasn't like he was lying. Starfleet had apparently lied about a lot of stuff…but according to one of the files he'd been able to gloss over on his quest for info, that much had been confirmed as the truth…the Vulcan _had_ apparently died on the table during some experiment.

"I _know_ that, Mr. Pierce," Kirk bit out icily, and he looked like he wanted to punch Warren in the face right about then. It was nothing less than he deserved really, but he had to get Kirk reconsider. It was time to play his second card.

"Then you need to realize that your crew? They aren't dead. They're alive, and if you step down…how do you know that the next captain will keep them that way?" Damn, when did he get so good and spouting this bullshit?

At these words, Kirk had frozen and gone rigid in his seat. Apparently, he hadn't thought of that before. Warren hesitated on what he was about to say next. Wondering if it would get him in trouble, and after considering it, decided that it wouldn't. He wasn't telling Kirk what he already didn't know, what he already didn't suspect or believe. "You say you don't trust _them_? Well, according to you, aren't _they_ the ones putting the people in the chairs? Do you really want one of _them_ in _your_ chair? Commanding _your_ ship? _Your_ people?"

He could tell by the crestfallen look on Kirk's face that he'd struck a nerve. He might not be able to help this guy further, not without putting his family at risk. But, there was one thing positive that kept him sounding convincing; if he could keep the one guy in Starfleet who he _knew_ was good, he was going to do it, for Dillion's sake. But, despite the risk to him from the assholes listening, he decided to plant his own seed.

"You want my advice? Wait till after this five-year mission is over, and then find your answers…but don't abandon your people," and with that, Warren abruptly stood from the booth, gave the captain a lengthy stare, and made his exit. He hoped to God for his family's sake, that the captain heeded his word. But after the five-year mission? He couldn't help but pray to God that Kirk would take his advice…and blow the lid off this fucking thing. It was nothing less than he would expect from his son's hero.

**Stardate 2262.152**

**8 months later**

Ever since that fateful meeting between Mr. Pierce, and himself, his life had taken a downward spiral. At least with the investigation going on, he could sleep at night. He could take refuge in the fact that, back on Earth, he was at least doing _something_ to clear Spock's name, to help his friend rest in some semblance of peace. He'd wanted nothing more than to turn his ship around, take it straight back to Earth and tell the Brass, '_fuck you_' before stepping down and clearing Spock's name himself. But, Mr. Pierce had been right eight months ago; if he stepped down, what would become of his crew? The only family he had left? They were good people, and he couldn't leave them to the whims of Starfleet when he had no fucking idea, _besides Covington, fucking bastard, _who was dirty and who wasn't.

Plus, if he stepped down, Gary would step into his place. And while Kirk didn't think Gary was in bed with the same fucks who condemned Spock (Gary might be an asshole, but Kirk could not see the man doing something like that) he wasn't keen on having the man in his chair. At all.

However, in his quest to fill the hole that had been slowly tearing him apart these past several months, he'd let Gary have something else, that in some wayswas much worse than allowing him to have the fucking captain's chair…

"Oh yeah…fuck…you're so _fucking_ tight!" Gary Mitchell rasped loudly from behind Kirk as he pounded relentlessly into him, his hands gripping Kirk's waist painfully tight. There would definitely be bruises there. Kirk knew Gary well enough in bed to know that there were _always_ bruises. Kirk welcomed the rough sex though. It got his mind off other things that were considerably _rougher_.

"Oh, fuck, I'm getting close!" Gary exclaimed as he quickened his thrusts. Kirk attempted to turn his head back to face the man he dared call a lover, but a hand on his cheek pushed his face back into the pillow. "Don't look at me Jim…you know I don't like—ahhggggg fuuuuck!" Gary keened as he climaxed into him, sating himself. Kirk sighed in annoyance. _He_ had not been sated…not even close. In fact, he wasn't even sure his dick got hard this time. Not that Mitchell would care. _Why did I agree to this again? _he thought as he lay there.

With a guttural sigh, Mitchell's body collapsed against Kirk's from exhaustion, his sweat chilled chest and belly covering every facet of the captain's back. "Holy fuck, that was good…I needed that," Gary went on as he lavished the back of Kirk's neck and trap muscles with sloppy kisses.

"Well…I'm glad somebody had a good time," Kirk couldn't resist retorting as he made to move out from underneath the man, hyper aware of the thick substance leaking out of him. How many times had he told Gary _not_ to do that? Too fucking many.

"Are you complaining, _captain_?" Gary rebutted with a smirk and a quirk of the eyebrows as he leveled himself off the bed, his dick already going limp. Before Kirk could answer, Gary's eyes traveled down to Kirk's own flaccid penis, where they instantly narrowed.

"What…do I not turn you on anymore? Nobodies dick goes soft that quick," he spat bitterly as he eyed Kirk's limp cock. For what had to be the hundredth time in the past six months; which was two months after Pierce had broken the investigation off; since he'd started this…this _fling_ with Gary, Kirk experienced regret.

"I'm just not in the mood tonight, Gary. Maybe you should just go. Besides, I think Bones is gonna try to come by later and swindle me into drinking with him. It wouldn't go over very well if he caught you here," Kirk explained as he got up, and began stripping the sheets from his bed. Gary had cumearlier all over them, and like hell if Kirk was going to sleep with that there. He'd once considered just going to Gary's quarters for sex, but the one time he walked in the room he had to immediately leave. Despite Spock being gone almost two years now, _those_ particular quarters still reminded him fiercely of the Vulcan. He couldn't bear being in there after that. He had never told Mitchell why he always insisted on fucking back in his cabin, because the man never cared to ask, and that suited Kirk just fine.

"You're never in the mood, Jimmy. I thought you liked this..."

"I do!" Kirk said, exasperated. "It's just…I don't know…" he ran a hand through his hair as he stared off at any place in the room that _wasn't_ Gary.

"Oh, I think I do," the comment drew his attention sharply back to his First.

"You…You do?" Kirk sputtered nervously. Had he found out that the only reason Kirk agreed to start fucking him again, against all his gut instincts, was because he just wanted to feel something? Anything? Besides the nothingness he felt all the time? Andwhile Gary was an asshole, both in and out of bed, at least it got his mind off the gaping void still lingering in his chest, maybe? The hole that the investigations used to help keep hidden? He wasn't sure anymore.

"Yeah, I do. You want this to be more than casual right? You actually wanna take this to the next level, don't you…" Gary accused more than asked, and all Kirk could do was blink in surprised astonishment.

_Seriously? Take their relationship to the next level? Like fucking hell!_ Before he could tell his First what utter bullshit _that_ theory was, the man started speaking again.

"Well, I'm sorry Jim…I really just don't want to be in that kind of relationship right now. I like this…what we've got going on…it's easy," Gary continued, misunderstanding Kirk's astonishment.

_No_…Kirk thought, _no it's not easy_.

"It's fun," Gary went on.

_Psssshhh that's a fucking laugh, fun? I don't even know what that word means anymore._

"And it gets us both laid."

…

_He's got a point there._

"That's fine Gary," he answered tiredly, neither confirming nor denying his accusation. Let the man think Kirk wanted more. That was fine with him. It was only when he thought Kirk would leave him that he would get territorial. Or, at least, that was how it was back at the Academy. He wasn't sure how Gary would be now if he tried to end their..._association_. He should try it one day just for shits and giggles.

"Well good. I'm glad we're seeing eye-to-eye. Now…let me take care of that for you…" Gary cooed seductively as he sauntered up to Kirk, and took his dick in hand, causing Kirk to gasp at the intensity out of instinct.

"Seriously Gary! Bones could be here any minute!" Kirk attempted as the man began rubbing the length of his cock, tugging on it every now and then.

"This won't take long, Kirk. You're always quick to please. And we share a bathroom for fuck's sake…if the whiny bastard feels the need to chime on your door; I'll just make a dash to my room."

Kirk didn't have time to examine the numerous insults in that statement as Gary pushed him down onto the bed, his cock still firmly in his grasp. Kirk gasped and winced at the intensity with which Gary was working him. It was too fast, and too harsh, almost like Gary just wanted to get it over with. Which was…just like him really. He had already satisfied himself. The only reason he even bothered with Kirk was to keep up appearances.

"Goddamnit Kirk! What the fuck?" Gary complained, exasperated as he took Kirk's cock into his mouth in a desperate attempt to get the man to harden. Honestly, it even boggled _Kirk's_ mind that he wasn't hard yet. He usually never had this problem. With men or women!

After about thirty seconds of furious sucking, licking, and even a little biting, Kirk was still flaccid as a noodle. Gary pulled back and narrowed his eyes in disappointment. "What's wrong with you tonight? I _know_ it ain't me."

_Of course it's not you, you egotistical pri…_"I already told you Gary! I'm just not in the mood!" Kirk snapped rather irately as he shrugged him off. Really he just wanted the other man to fucking leave already so he could wallow in his shame at his slutty behavior over the last six months. Bones would literally shit a brick if he knew what he and Gary had been up too behind closed doors. He didn't even want to think about what Spock would think, were he alive.

"I don't believe that. If anyone's got a bigger libido than me, it's you," Gary argued, making Kirk groan in annoyance. God the man just would _not_ drop it! What Gary said next though, Kirk was _not_ prepared for.

"I bet if it was your _precious_ Vulcan down here sucking your dick, you'd be hard as a rock by now."

_What the fuck?_

Kirk blinked.

"What'd you just say to me?" Kirk asked darkly as he locked eyes with Gary, who was staring at him defiantly, his hands on his hips. Suddenly, Kirk's belief that Gary was not in league with people who'd framed Spock slipped just a little.

"You heard me."

Anger. White hot anger flooded Kirk's system. How _dare_ this asshole insult Spock, who wasn't even here to defend himself. How fucking dare him!

"Get the fuck out of here," Kirk ordered with as much as menace as he could, and pointed towards their shared bathroom. Gary just looked baffled at the turn of events.

"Seriously Jim? It's been what, _two years_ since he died? It's time to get…" but he didn't get a chance to finish that sentence, for Kirk was up off the bed within two seconds, his hands on the other man's throat before he could even make sense of what was going on. Red. That was all Kirk could see right at that moment as he pushed Mitchell harshly against the wall. It was like he'd stepped outside himself, and let his anger do the talking.

"DON'T you fucking DARE speak about him, you hear me?" Kirk threatened venomously, his mouth dangerously close to Gary's. If Mitchell hadn't been so surprised by the sudden change in behavior, he might've fought back. However, all he could do was swallow, and gaze at Kirk in shock. "Now get THE FUCK out of here!" he bellowed venomously, and pushed the man against the wall again for emphasis before releasing him. Gary wasted no time in gathering his clothes and darting through their shared bathroom.

"You've got fucking problems, Kirk," he heard the other man say as the door shut between them. Instantly Kirk ordered the computer to lock said door, and searched for the nearest breakable object he could find, which happened to be an antique picture frame of Bones and him at the Academy. He wasted no time in picking the frame up, and hoisted it across the room where it hit the wall with a loud shatter, sending shards of glass everywhere.

"God-fucking-_dammit_!" he yelled to no one in particular as he bent over and tried to regulate his breathing, which had escalated considerably. He knew Gary always hit low blows, but he didn't believe in a million years that he'd go that low. How the fuck did he even find out about his feelings for Spock in the first place? Or perhaps he just guessed like the rest of the people on this ship had done. Well, if it hadjust been a guess,it wouldn't be any longer. Gary certainly knew by now just what his feelings for his former First Officer were based on the reaction he'd just given.

Knowing how awkward it would be for Bones to find him in such a state, Kirk chanced a visit into the shared bathroom to clean himself up. If Mitchell knew what was good for him, he wouldn't dare try come into their bathroom after that fight.

Fortunately, he didn't, and after Kirk was thoroughly cleaned of all Mitchell's disgusting evidence, he hunted his floor for his clothes, and hurriedly forced them on. He spared the broken mess on the floor a pitying glance before making his way out into the corridor. He didn't feel like cleaning it up at that moment, and he sure as hell didn't feel like explaining to Bones why it was broken in the first place. He _did_ feel like downing a shot though.

Aside from fucking Gary, drinking was another thing he'd picked up with more exuberance in the past eight months. But he was smarter when it came to drinking than with Gary apparently, for he didn't let drinking control him or affect him like Gary had a knack for doing. He _was_ the Captain of a Starship; it wouldn't look good to fall onto the bridge drunk every damn day.

"Hey Jim! I was just on my way to your cabin to…are you okay?" Bones asked worriedly as the two met each other at the turbo-lift. Obviously, he still looked pretty pissed going by the expression on the doctor's face. Time to do what he did best, and hide that shit.

"I'm fine Bones. Whatdoyousay we pay a visit to Scotty's distillery tonight?" he offered up as cheerily as possible. If Scotty were with them, then Bones wouldn't be able to probe him for answers. At least, he wouldn't do it in front of the Scotsman.

Bones eyed him warily. "You sure you're okay, Jimbo?" he asked, ignoring Kirk's suggestion.

"I said I'm fine. Just got done talking to Command, you know how much they piss me off sometimes," Kirk lied as he stepped inside the turbo-lift, and hit the floor for engineering. Bones didn't look convinced, but he didn't question it.

((oOo))

If Gary or Bones wanted to question him over the next week about his sudden change in behavior they didn't get a chance too, for barely a day later the Enterprise found herself orbiting the planet Toreador, and dealing with the shit-storm that always seemed to accompany unexplored _planets_ when his ship was involved.

Kirk had seen a lot of shit over the past two years. From dealing with contagions that made his entire crew pretty much lose their marbles while orbiting the planet Psi 2000, (Kirk would never get the image of a frantic Sulu attempting to engage everyone in a sword fight) to dealing with adolescent, telepathic Thasians who could take over a Starship easy as fuck. Yes, the Enterprise had seen quite a lot in the span of two years, but Toreador was something else entirely.

Originally, it had been a distress call that called them there, yet no matter how many times they hailed the planet while in orbit, no one would answer. _Well, this is usually how things start before shit hits the fan_, Kirk had thought disdainfully as he made the decision to send an away team down.

Trying hard to forget what had transpired between Gary and himself a day prior, Kirk, two security officers, and his First Officer had beamed down to the planet to find out what the hell had been going on.

What they beamed down to had definitely been one for the books. It was a world of hellish chaos. Death, pain and misery were all that seemed to exist on this dark and dreary planet, and it seemed its inhabitants were no better than slaves, all answering to one Toreadian in particular who seemed to hold all the cards. Kirk and his team had been horrified at the mindless trance the planet's people all seemed to be lost in, almost as if someone had complete control over their minds. Kirk had instantly deduced that some kind of telepathy had to be responsible.

It wasn't until Kirk and his team had stumbled upon two Toreadians who hadn't seemed to be trapped in the mindless daze like the others, that he _really_ started to see what was going on. Apparently the Toreadians had a special power rooted in their biology. A type of telepathy,which had only confirmed Kirk's previous assumption. If he had to describe it in one word, he would have called them illusionists. For that had been their talent, and they were damn good at it.

Apparently, their biology enabled them to create tactile images with their minds, and some were more adept than others, which had seemed to be the case with _Th'Veen_, the Toreadian tyrant who had obviously had the majority of planet, (save Da'Keer and his wife, Sa'Hane, the two aliens he and his team had stumbled across,) under some kind of massive illusion. Not only had this tyrant been able to create these images, but he had also been able to construct whole worlds and bind his victims to them, to make them believe anything. It had been, and still was a terrifying thought, and he knew Spock would have been appalled at such blatant misuse of such a power.

"I sent the distress call, Captain Kirk, in hopes that someone would answer our plea. As the former ruler of Toreador, I must put a stop to my brother's oppression, lest we all be consumed by this madness," King Da'Keer had explained to him in nothing less than desperation. He remembered Gary pulling him aside a second later.

"Captain, I think this is a suicide mission, who's to say we won't end up in the same illusion?" Gary had argued with him, giving no hints to their previous altercation in Kirk's quarters. They were on duty now, and it was time to act professional. At least had Gary understood that much.

"What, and abandon these people to this fate? Look around you Gary!" Kirk had screamed as he flailed his arms about to indicate the desolate world around them. "This place is like the seventh circle of hell! We can't just ignore this!" Kirk had rebounded. God, did his First Officer have no heart? Never in a million years would Spock have abandoned a civilization in need. And neither would he.

"Your First Officer is correct, Captain Kirk. This is not your battle, but nevertheless, I beg…plead…with you for your help," Sa'Hane, Toreador's Queen, had cried as she fell to her knees, tears lining her slightly pale, purplish face. There had been no doubt about it, the Toreadians were a beautiful race, what with their silky white hair, and pastel purple complexions, their eyes a swimming swirl of blues, pinks, and purples; it had been, and was beautiful. Hell, they would give the Deltans a run for their money.

"There's no need to beg, your Highness. I swear to you that the Enterprise will do what she can. I've got the best crew any captain could ever ask for, we'll get your people out of this," he had assured her with a hard glare in Gary's direction. Gary narrowed his eyes, but made no further attempt at arguing.

"You are most courageous, Captain Kirk. We are indebted to you," Da'Keer had all but fallen over with gratitude at his agreement to help them. Kirk had waved him down with embarrassment and immediately set to work in finding out how to crack the spell that Th'Veen apparently had over this planet.

It wasn't easy…hell, Kirk had very nearly lost two men in the process, and one had been severely injured, but with his kick-ass crew (save Gary who bitched and moaned the entire time) Kirk had managed to free the Toreadians from Th'Veen's barbaric mass illusion. In the end, it meant the Toreadian's death, which had been no easy feat for Kirk who never liked having to kill people in the first place, especially since Th'Veen had been Da'Keer's brother, but the planet had been saved. And that was all that mattered.

Where before, Toreador had seemed a desolate, barren wasteland under Th'Veen's rule; after removing Th'Veen from the equation, it transformed into a beautiful, lush landscape of forestry, and enough flora to make Sulu practically orgasm on the spot with excitement. Every region, it seemed, had major differences in vegetation, climate, and geography. Spock would have had a field day with the tricorder, but Kirk had quickly stomped out that image, before it led to the ache he tried so hard to avoid. To keep muted.

"Every region differs in appearance and climate with the regards to the regent overseeing that area. It is how my brother was able to garner such a hold over our people. He overcame the regents with his formidable abilities, and through them, was able to exert control over the entire planet. It is but an illusion," Da'Keer had explained to him when Sulu had asked the King why the planet was so geographically versatile. Kirk knew it would make a kick-ass shore leave planet, given that the Toreadians wished to become a part of the Federation. They were already warp capable, all Kirk had to do was present the idea to Command, and ask Da'Keer and his Queen if they would consider membership. Then, diplomatic talks could ensue and, given time, perhaps it could happen. That was a part of his job as the Captain, to entice civilizations like these into joining the Federation.

But, was the Federation worth joining? Kirk didn't know anymore.

"We will definitely take your offer into consideration, Captain Kirk. If your Federation has more like you in its ranks, then I am sure our people would be delighted to be a part of it," Da'Keer had told him once he'd broached the subject. Kirk had felt a pang in his chest as he thought about just what kind of people lurked in the Federation's ranks. The Toreadians had no idea of the corruption that Kirk knew was inside of Starfleet, the Federation's military force. Would it really be fair to subject them to it? It had been no surprise when his hesitancy regarding such issues had been felt by the Queen, who had taken to staring at him thoughtfully for a better portion of the time.

However, it wasn't until they beamed down to the planet to make an official invitation in the Federation of Planets, something Kirk was still reluctant to do, that the Queen decided to address that tentativeness.

"I sense from you a hesitance in the confidence of your own people, Captain," Sa'Hane whispered to him as she pulled him aside from his senior officers, who had also beamed down with him to formally extend the invitation. Bones raised his eyebrows as he was pulled off by the elbow by the Queen, but didn't say anything. Which was a first in Bones' book.

"I see your people can do more than just create illusions…" Kirk accused gently, an amused expression in his eyes. Sa'Hane smiled at him cheekily, her pastel eyes glinting with amusement as well. Kirk was aware he probably looked like a creep, but he couldn't resist staring intently into those incandescent eyes. If she thought the same, she didn't comment. She only smiled.

"We are a people of many abilities, Captain Kirk, but they do differ from Toreadian to Toreadian, just as the gifts among your own people are so vastly different," she paused and signaled elegantly to a glowing tree behind her. "Some of us are more adept at creating the illusions that you see all around you, and making them real, tactile," she turned back and indicated her husband with her eyes. "Such is the case with my husband, the King, while others, like myself, are more in tune with the inner workings of the mind. Toreadians who possess my talents are able to feel the illusions people want to see, our talent makes them all the more real…" she explained as they walked a little further, and halted in front of another tree; this tree didn't just glow, it radiated bioluminescence. It was utterly breath-taking; the coloring and glowing shimmer of the tree; and Kirk couldn't help but stare, completely mesmerized by it.

"It is how we are paired. Strengths are matched, and the talent shared. Together, my husband and I create the beauty and art in this world that our people value so much, and distribute it to the regents to be upheld and maintained. Though not all Torideans can perform this creation as well as I and the King can; thus; the reason we are put in the position that we are. I travel from region to region, listen to my people, I sense my people's desires; my husband brings reality to them. It is our way."

It sounded like a fairy tale to Kirk. A real, modern day fairy tale. _Oh, what would Spock have done to see a world like this!_ Kirk's heart thudded painfully in his chest at the thought.

"It is…amazing, your Highness. Like something out of the fairytales native to my home world," Kirk responded in awe as he reached out to finger a leaf which pulsated with the vibrant, glowing light.

The Queen raised her eyebrows, which were stark white against her the purple hue of her skin. "A…fairytale?" she probed, clearly not understanding the Terran term.

Kirk chuckled, but could not quell the aching lump in his throat. Her confusion over the alien term was so reminiscent of how Spock would often get when _he_ had been confused by terms he had been unfamiliar with. Swallowing the pain, Kirk went on to explain. "Fairytales are stories about magic, beauty, bravery, and happy-endings. We tell them to the children of our world to inspire happiness and imagination. In them, evil never prevails, and the hero always wins. Your world reminds me of one of those," and suddenly he regretted extending the invitation to join the Federation. Who knew what would happen once Starfleet got its hands on such a place? He should have gone with his first instinct.

"As I stated before, I sense your unease, Captain. You wish us to become members of your Federation, but then again, you do not," she explained knowingly, and leveled her gaze at him. Kirk could get lost looking into those vibrantly colored eyes. They were mystifying.

"Can you read my feelings to or something?" Kirk blurted before he could stop himself.

"Do you not wish me too?" she asked nervously, probably worried that she had offended him.

"No, no…it's fine. Just, I wouldn't do that around my crew, some don't take kindly to telepaths reading their thoughts," he warned before frowning, which didn't go unnoticed by the Queen. Dammit that woman didn't miss a thing.

"Speak your mind, Captain Kirk," she prodded, stepping closer and holding his gaze. It was hard to speak his mind when she was looking at him like that. That Spockian-look.

"…What else do you read…from me?" Kirk chanced. He was aware that he was basically giving a telepath permission to fuddle around in his innermost thoughts, but he barely understood himself these days anymore. Maybe hearing it from this Toreadian would help place things into perspective. He could surely use a push in the right direction if she was willing.

She gave him a calculating gaze, which made him twiddle his thumbs anxiously. Was she reading him now? Shit, Bones would go ballistic if he knew. He was never one to like telepathy. Spock was the only exception, and even that had been pushing it.

"You are aware that Toreadian telepathy is vastly different from what you have experienced in your travels? We do not read thoughts as clearly as some species…it is more empathetic than anything," she explained. Kirk nodded to her, he hadn't expected her to be like a Vulcan, but he still wanted to know. She nodded back and closed her eyes, perhaps this was how they read people. "I sense…great pain from you, Captain. You have lost someone…someone close to you," she said softly, causing Kirk's breath to hitch in his chest as he stared at her. She continued on, never opening her eyes. "This pain is ever-present, yet you hide it from the rest," she went on as she brought up her hand and steadied it in front of him. Her eyes opened, and bored straight into his. Kirk stared at the hand curiously. Bones, he noticed, was watching the scene with interest. "If I may, I would wish to physically touch you, it helps me to better ascertain the depth of your emotions, to get a clearer meaning, and clearer imagery. If you will permit me?" Sa'Hane inquired softly.

Kirk involuntarily took a hesitant step backwards. "I'm…I'm not sure that's a good idea, your Highness. I don't want to hurt you," he said earnestly, remembering all too well how telepathy worked with Vulcans. If the Toreadians were anything like them at all, despite what she'd said, then the depth of his emotions would be painful for her. He didn't wish that kind of pain on anyone else.

"You will not hurt me, Captain. I am an adept at this, I only wish to understand, and perhaps help. It is the least I can offer you after what you and your crew have done for my people," she reassured him as she took a step closer, her hand still outstretched. Bones, he errantly noticed, was starting to walk towards them hastily, but Kirk shot his hand out to halt the man.

"It's okay Bones," he said to his friend just as King Da'Keer came up beside the doctor, and whispered something into his ear. Bones scowled at the King a moment before allowing himself to be led off and away from the pair.

"Is he—?"

"He will be fine, Captain Kirk. Now, will you allow me to…"

"Alright, go ahead, but don't say I didn't warn you."

"You did though, and your warning has been heeded," she rebutted, and just before Kirk was about to let out a laugh at the seriousness in her voice, the Queen's purple, delicate fingers caressed his cheek tenderly with a surprising heat that he did not expect. Unlike a Vulcan mind-meld, Kirk didn't feel anything but the woman's fingers on him. There was no mind trying to merge with his. No comforting wall to lean himself against as it had been with the older Spock.

She closed her eyes again, and Kirk watched them dance and flit beneath her eyelids. A few seconds later, she let out a pained gasp, causing him to step abruptly away from her. Had he hurt her? Dammit! This was why he didn't want to do this!

"Queen Sa'Hane? Are you alright? Shit, I'm sorry! I knew this was a bad ide…" he started hastily as she leaned over to gather her bearings. She placed her hand out to halt him mid-step as he reached out to her. It was at least an awkward minute before she took a deep breath, and straightened herself up. To his confusion, the other Toreadians in the vicinity, including her husband, made no move to assist her; they merely looked on the scene with impassivity. Perhaps this kind of thing was normal?

Bones had made to move towards them again, but was halted by the King a second time. Gary, he noticed, was just watching the scene curiously and maybe with a little hint of jealousy.

"Do not worry yourself, Captain. I was merely unprepared for the strength of such…anguish," she explained, her voice dripping with grief. He felt himself blush and shifted a hand nervously through his hair. This was more attention than he'd wanted.

"Yeah well…I've learned to live with it," Kirk said sardonically, and averted his gaze to the ground. He wanted nothing more than to drop the subject, and was suddenly sorry he asked for Sa'Hane to read him in the first place.

There was an awkward silence that forced him to peer back up at her, and he had to bite down on his tongue to keep from gasping. She was crying!

"To love another as you loved him…" she wept as tears fell from the end of her face down onto the ground.

"Uh…" Okay, he was really starting to get uncomfortable here. Surely, she hadn't seen…

"And to have lost him in such a way…" she went on, slightly louder, completely ignoring his attempt to cut in. He looked around nervously to see if anyone had heard. The scowl on Gary's face, and the look of pity on Bones' as well as Uhura, told him that the entire venue had indeed heard. Dammit. Now his crew was going to think he was emotionally unstable. He had worked so hard over the past two years to get rid of that image.

"Your entire being yearns for him, cries out to him," her voice grew louder as she continued, and he hastily tried to quiet her with his hands, but it wasn't working. "Oh, Captain Kirk!" she cried out at last, before a choked sob erupted from her, and she bent over, cradling her stomach.

_What the fuck?_

Not knowing what to do, Kirk merely stared at her. It was no use trying to quiet her anymore, everyone who possessed a pair of ears heard her. He didn't want to touch her either, and risk pushing more of his obviously unstable emotions onto her, but what else could he do? This was exactly why he didn't want to do this!

Thankfully, only a few seconds passed before two other Toreadian's embraced the Queen, and hurried her out of the Courtyard where they were all gathered. The tree, he noticed, was no longer glowing with bioluminescence. It was just a normal, everyday tree now, though it was maroon instead of green like on Earth. Was it connected to her in some way?

It took him moment to notice that both Bones and King Da'Keer were standing in front of him. Bones looked plain worried, and Da'Keer had a knowing expression on his face. Kirk hoped he hadn't just fucked up a possible diplomatic mission because of his goddamn, unstable emotions. Command would rip him a new asshole. But then again, maybe he'd just done the Toreadians a favor.

"Look, your Highness, I didn't mean…I'm sorry I hurt her…I…" he stuttered, hoping the King would understand that he hadn't meant any harm.

Da'Keer however, waved him down and looked at him solemnly. "Your apology is unnecessary Captain Kirk, it is part of her talent, to feel what another feels. She is quite adept at it, more so than anyone else on our planet, hence why she is Queen."

"Adept? Looked like she'd been shot with a phaser if you asked me!" Bones chided with a scowl, causing Kirk to glare at him. Bones' comments were really unnecessary at that moment. Fortunately, Da'Keer took no offense to them.

"She was simply unprepared for the depth of your Captain's pain," he explained as he regarded the doctor thoughtfully, and then turned back to Kirk with a pointed expression on his face. "You are quite remarkable at hiding it, Captain Kirk," Da'Keer assessed with something akin to regret, as well as slight awe. Bones' scowl suddenly turned into a worried expression as he stepped closer to Kirk, and reached out a hand to his shoulder.

"Jim…I thought you'd put this behind you? Is he talking about what I think he's talking about?" Bones implored him. Kirk was about to answer, but someone else beat him to it. Apparently, the professionalism that Gary and Kirk had managed to uphold for the entirety of their time on this planet was going to be short-lived.

"Put it behind him? Shit…even from the grave, that Vulcan has Kirk wrapped around his finger," Gary snorted from a few feet away. The rest of the away team gasped at the comment, and looked around at each other nervously. Kirk felt his insides twist furiously, and he didn't know if it was a side-effect of what the Queen had just done to him, but he felt a deep rage well up within him at Gary's comment. No one spoke about Spock that way in front of Kirk, and he was going to remind his First of that right now.

"Why you goddamn, mother fuckin—," Kirk began as he barreled over to Gary with his fist in the air, wanting nothing more than to pummel the life out of the man who had so little regard for his feelings, or the Vulcan that was at the root of them.

"No Jim!" Bones yelled as he wrapped his arms around Kirk's waist to hold him back. Uhura, he noticed, had in the midst of all this made her way over to him as well, and was also aiding Bones in restraining their Captain.

"Let me go! Let me the _fuck_ go, so I can beat his ass!" Kirk yelled as he viciously fought for freedom. Why was he so angry? Sure, Gary deserved to have his ass beat for being so inconsiderate, but he was above this now! Wasn't he?

"Captain, get a hold of yourself! You hit him, and he might report you!" Uhura beseeched him as she fought to hold onto him. Da'Keer and the rest of the Toreadians were watching the scene with shocked fascination.

"That's rich coming from you, Uhura," everyone paused and turned to face Gary, who had spoken again "weren't you and the Vulcan sleeping together at some point? I heard rumors you know, and I'd think you would be on his side in all this," Gary finished sarcastically.

Kirk watched as Uhura instantly let him go, turned around, and marched right up to Gary only to slap him hard in the face. The force of the blow sounded like phaserfire throughout the Courtyard, which had gone deathly quiet. Mitchell grasped his cheek tenderly, but made no move to retaliate.

"How fucking dare you!" she said venomously, her eyes narrowed into tiny slits. By the look on Gary's face, Kirk knew the man regretted everything he'd just said. Why he said it? Kirk didn't think he'd ever know. Was it jealousy maybe? That Kirk would never love Gary like he did Spock? It didn't matter though. He still said it. Everyone had still heard it, and you couldn't take something like that back.

"Look, that was out of line…I'm sorry," Gary said, though it looked like it took every ounce of will-power to even do that. Gary was never good at apologies.

"You're goddamn right that was out of line!" Bones yelled furiously, as he removed his arms from around Kirk's waist. Though, his hands lingered on the captain's shoulders.

"You can take your apology and blow it out your ass, Mitchell," Uhura seethed, her death glare never letting up. Kirk was inwardly beaming with pride at his Communications Officer. She obviously didn't bode well on people talking bad about Spock either.

"I believe…" and here everyone swirled around to face the now composed Queen of Toreador, "that it would be best if this…this _Mr. Mitchell_…beamed back up to your ship, Captain. We have no place for beings that make such games with others emotions."

Gary studied the woman for a moment, probably deciding if he should react to her insult. Kirk kind of hoped he would, because if the Toreadians didn't agree to join the Federation all because of Gary, then perhaps he could get the man kicked off his ship for ruining diplomatic negotiations. Gary however, seemed to know this, and settled for pursing his lips into a scowl. Opening his communicator, he leveled one last glare at Kirk who was still being held by Bones on the shoulder, and spoke into it.

"Mitchell to Enterprise."

"Riley here, go ahead."

"One to beam up," Gary finished in a curt tone, his narrowed eyes never leaving Kirk's.

Everyone watched as the transporter beams took Gary away, and Bones sighed in relief. Oddly enough, Kirk was feeling a lot calmer now. He looked to King Da'Keer who was standing beside the Queen, both of them regarding him apologetically.

"Please accept my apology, your Highnesses, for trying to start an altercation as a guest in your palace, that was inappropriate of me," he stated earnestly, his cheeks red with guilt. The Queen looked at him apologetically.

"The fault lies with me, Captain. It is not uncommon, after the close mental contact I initiated with you, to experience such intense emotions. It is a side-effect I should have warned you of."

_Well, that makes sense_, Kirk thought in relief before hunching his shoulders up slightly, indicating to Bones, who still had his hand on them. "In that case Bones, you should've let me go," he said in amusement as he shook himself out of Bones' grasp.

"Yeah, well, as much as that guy deserves a swift kick in the balls, the last thing you need is the Brass coming down on you, Jim, for physically assaulting your First Officer. The last thing we need is them kicking you off the Enterprise so that prick can haul us around the galaxy."

"That didn't stop Uhura. She just physically assaulted him, and he's probably lodging a complaint as we speak," Kirk answered regretfully as he continued to come down off the high of anger he'd been thrust into.

"Then it vill be for nothingz Keptin, I waz not seeing phyzical assault," Chekov piped in from his place in the corner, Sulu right beside him.

"Yeah Captain, I didn't see a physical assault either…just a whole lot of yelling," the helmsman chimed in with a smirk in Uhura's direction. Kirk couldn't help smirking himself at his loyal bridge crew. How could he ask for better officers than this? Better friends?

"Is this the way of it with the rest of you?" Kirk asked the Courtyard at large. They all nodded with a knowing smile in their eyes. When he turned back to Uhura, she was also smiling.

Kirk rounded back to Sa'Hane. "Are…are you okay now?" he probed cautiously, still feeling guilty about what he'd done to her. She smiled at him, and then shared a meaningful look with her husband while simultaneously taking his slightly darker purple hand in hers.

"I assure you Captain, I am well, and on behalf of the Kingdom of Toreador, we would like to extend an invitation for your crew to spend as much time as they wish in leisure on our planet. I must warn you that it might not be as enjoyable since we have just come out of war, but I still believe your crew will benefit," she offered warmly. All around him his officers threw their fists in the air and gasped with joy. Especially Sulu, who no doubt just wet himself at the prospect of getting to study the various flora which littered the planet.

Kirk decided to play with them a bit.

"That's very kind of you, your Highness, but I've got orders to rendezvous with the _USS Reliant_ in Sector thirteen to help ferry supplies…" Instantly everyone groaned, including Uhura. Kirk resisted the impulse to smile.

"Keptin…it vill only take three dayz at least to be makingz that journey, and we do not haf to be meeting zem for another eight dayz!" Chekov sounded loudly. Kirk's hold broke at that, and he smiled with glee at the young man's enthusiasm.

"Well…if you're sure about that…"

"He is, Captain," Sulu seconded in earnest. Damn these guys really wanted some shore leave there.

"Then…if it's not too much trouble your Majesties, I accept. I'll inform my crew," Kirk said in amusement.

"Splendid Captain!" Da'Keer voiced gleefully before his face took on a defensive expression. "However, I request that your First Officer remain on your ship. His presence is not wanted," he added darkly. Both Uhura and Bones made sounds of agreement.

"That's not a problem, sir. I'm sure none of us want him down here either," Kirk answered as he pulled out his communicator.

"Captain, when you gather a moment, I would like to speak with you again," Sa'Hane asked softly as he swished the device open. He had no doubt what she wanted to speak with him about, and he couldn't help but be reluctant. The last thing he wanted to do was speak about Spock anymore. It only drudged up pain. But it would be rude to refuse her offer, so he nodded an affirmation at her. She acknowledged him with a slight bow of her head.

"Kirk to Enterprise."

"Riley here, Captain."

"Beam us up Mr. Riley, and get ready for some shore leave," he said as he smiled at his crew.

((oOo))

Unfortunately, though not unsurprisingly, the overworked crew of the Enterprise would _not_ be enjoying shore leave on Toreador. Barely an hour after beaming off the planet, Command had sent him a message via subspace, and informed him that the _USS Reliant_ was receiving hostile threats from the Orion Syndicate, and the Enterprise was to make all haste to meet up with her, and offer any protection and aid she required.

After cutting the transmission, there was a moment of silence before Kirk swore loudly.

"Goddamnit!" he yelled as he pounded the arms of his chair on the bridge. His crew had been so elated upon hearing they were going to spend time on the modern day equivalent of fucking Narnia. It was so his fucking luck that that would not come to pass.

"Sir…should I lay in a course to Sector Thirteen?" Sulu asked despondently. No one had been looking forward to that shore leave as much as he had been. The only person in the room who seemed happy with the turn of events was Mitchell. He could practically _feel_ the fucking elatedness coming off his First Officer in waves. The two still hadn't spoken since the incident down on Toreador, and he wasn't about to start.

"Yeah, go ahead, but don't go anywhere just yet," he paused and turned to look at Uhura. "Lt. Uhura, hail Toreador. At least let me explain what's going on, and that we _won't_ be accepting their invitation after all."

"Yes Captain, hailing them now," she confirmed begrudgingly.

A few moments later, King Da'Keer's ambient lavender colored face filled the viewscreen. "Captain Kirk, we are ready to receive your crew," he said with a smile, and Kirk fought down the regret bubbling within him.

"Yeah, about that King Da'Keer…my ships' been called away on an emergency, I regret that we won't be able to accept your invitation after all," he informed him with disdain.

Da'Keer frowned. "I see. We understand, Captain Kirk. Your Federation is busy, as are you," he said, and off to side, Kirk heard Gary snort. Da'Keer eyed the man, obviously having heard him, before bringing his gaze back to Kirk. "Captain, we do not wish you to leave without offering some sort of repayment for what you have done for our Kingdom," he stated in all seriousness.

Kirk blinked, and felt himself blush. "Uh, your Highness…that's really not necessary. We didn't do it for any kind of benefit other than making sure your people were free," Kirk explained with chagrin. He was never one to do something only to get something in return. That had ended on Tarsus IV.

"I insist, Captain Kirk," he said with more conviction, making Kirk glance around him nervously. What he expected his crew to do though, was beyond him. He was the captain here, not them.

"Thank you, your Highness, but we really have to…"

"Captain…" the feminine voice of Sa'Hane sounded from off the screen, and her mauve face came into view. Da'Keer moved over to allow his wife the space she required. "Captain, we do not make this request lightly. Please…allow us to repay you," she implored him with those deep eyes that cut right through to his soul. He ran his hand through his hair again as a slight bout of irritation assaulted him. How could he get these people to understand that what he did, he did because he wanted to? Because he was morally bound to?

"Please, Queen Sa'Hane, you honor me with your request, but…"

"By refusing this gift, you dishonor my people, Captain," she cut him off with evened eyes. _Of course she'd play the culture card…fuck!_ From behind him, he heard Uhura clear her throat in an attempt to draw his attention.

"Uh, one moment, your Highness?"

"Certainly," she said patiently while Kirk bounded out of his chair to approach Uhura's station.

"Captain, if you don't accept this gift, you might offend them."

"Yeah, but we don't even know what it is!" he whispered hurriedly. For all he knew, it could be something like those spores? Or, God forbid another fucking tribble invasion…

"Something tells me it won't be something dangerous," she said earnestly, making him sigh as he turned away from her, and retreated back to his chair.

"Alright your Highness, I will accept, but can you at least tell me what the nature of this gift is? So I can inform my crew?" he asked, causing her to frown guiltily.

"Captain…while your crew was instrumental in the success of freeing our people of Th'Veen's rule, this gift is intended for you."

Kirk sat up straighter in his chair. "What do you mean?" he asked warily.

"The invitation for leisure time on our planet was meant for your crew, Captain. But as you can no longer take part in that, this is the only thing in my power to give, and it would have a direct effect on you. I had meant to do this while you stayed with us on the planet, but I regret that this way will have to suffice."

By now, Kirk was all kinds of confused, and judging by the looks his bridge officers were shooting his way, they were just as bemused as he was.

"Is this…is it dangerous?" he couldn't help asking, and regretted it the moment it escaped his mouth.

Sa'Hane fixed him with a hurt gaze. "Of course not, Captain Kirk," she said with a hint of sadness. Shit. He'd offended her.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to insinuate…God, that came out wrong," he tried to apologize as he stumbled over his words. Beside him, Gary shook his head in annoyance. "Just…yes, I accept the gift, should I come down and collect it myself?" Kirk said hastily, wanting to stay on good terms with the Toreadians and end the epic fail his speech patterns were making.

She smiled at him with an odd sort of twinkle in her eyes. "That is not necessary, Captain. If you would permit it, we can beam the gift aboard."

Right at that moment, Kirk's panel on the chair went off.

"Transporter Room to Bridge."

Kirk eyed Sa'Hane on the screen who was still smiling at him, before answering.

"Kirk here," he responded with a hint of reluctance. He never took his eyes off the Queen.

"Sir, I've got a request to beam someone up from the planet."

"Kirk frowned minutely as he searched the Queen's face for an elaboration on his officer's words. He didn't get any though. Perhaps the gift, whatever it was, required someone to escort it aboard? Suddenly the tribble thing seemed like more of a reality, and he inwardly groaned. If he was about to get some animal…Oh well, it couldn't be helped. This was part of playing face in the midst of diplomatic relations.

"Grant that request, Ensign. I'll be down momentarily. Kirk out," he spoke into the panel.

"Thank you for the gift, your Highness, I'm sure I will enjoy it," Kirk managed with a smile. However, she was no longer smiling at him; in fact, she was fixing him with the most intense, serious gaze he had seen on her since they'd fought side by side in freeing the planet from her husband's crazed brother.

"This gift will not last long, Captain, for the further you travel from this planet, the more the gift will fade until it is gone completely. However, he is my, and my husband's strongest creation yet, and I hope you find the closure that your heart so desires. Until we meet again, Captain Kirk," she said sincerely before cutting the connection.

For a moment, no one said anything. All they did was stare at the empty viewscreen where the Queen's face had just been.

"Did…did she just refer to the gift as a '_he'_?" Sulu questioned with bewilderment as he rounded to face the captain. Before Kirk could answer however, the transporter room was comming him again.

"Kirk here," he answered in a hesitant voice, the Queen's words still fresh in his head.

"Uh, Captain? You'd better get down here. You're gonna wanna see this," Riley said, his tone full of disbelief at whatever the Toreadians had sent up. _Shit_, he thought as he shot out of his chair, and all but ran to the turbo-lift. Gary made to follow, his own curiosity obviously getting the best of him, but was stopped by Kirk's orders.

"You have the conn, Mr. Mitchell," he said firmly as the turbo-lift doors shut in front of him, effectively cutting off the man's scowl at being made to stay behind.

No sooner had the doors opened than Kirk was pushing his way past crewmembers in his haste to get to the transporter room. Once he arrived, he barreled inside, and the sight that met him was enough to make any man's heart stop. Instantly his insides froze, and all the color drained from his face. For there, standing on the transporter pad, was a Vulcan clad in Starfleet Science blues, his stance rigid and pristine, and his hands clasped behind his back. When he caught sight of Kirk, the barest hint of a smile tugged at his green tinged lips. Kirk should breathe, he really should, but it was like he suddenly forgot how to.

"…Spock?" he managed faintly as he crumpled to the floor. He didn't see the Vulcan jump off the pad to catch him.

**Yes, I used Gary Mitchell as an asshole again, but he's just too good of an asshole to not use him like that. And, now heres the response I gave about Brixton and Edison:**

**Now, Dr. Edison, and Warden Brixton are driven by completely different goals in this fic. Brixton, just hates Spock plain and simple, and he was there before this project started, and way before Dr. Edison came along. Yes, he is aware of the experiments, and how important Spock is to their plans, but his savage need to watch Spock suffer in every way possible often overwhelms that aspect. This is a character flaw on his part, and will be important in later chapters. Why is he able to get away with the neglect he forces on Spock? Like leaving him to almost bleed to death from his head injury? For one thing, Dr. Edison is mainly working or busying himself in his labs, and with his medical staff; he leaves the management of the prison up to Brixton, and he trusts that Brixton WILL NOT let the Vulcan die. Dr. Edison is not aware of even a fraction of what happens to Spock down in the Prison Popbecause he does not fathom Brixton being so careless with his most prized subject.**

**Originally, Edison did not want Spock integrated with the prisoners at all, but Brixton convinced him otherwise, and being that Brixton is the Warden, he still has a lot of pull. Could Starfleet replace him because of this? It's not that simple. You will come to find out that a lot of the staff at Doradus don't have the cleanest records, because there are not alot of people who would consent to being a part of a prison like this.**

**Now, if Dalton had not come along, I'm pretty sure the Warden would've stepped in and gotten the Vulcan medical attention, but he literally waited till the last moment; again, goes into that "I want that vulcan to suffer and break" and Brixton is a star at doing that, at making Spock feel helpless and defeated. Now, like I said, this aspect of Brixton's personality? His blatant disregard for the safety of the Vulcan will come back to him, and him and Edison will get into several arguments about it.**

**To put it simply hehe, Warden Brixton pretty much could give a shit less about the project, he's just a cruel human on a power trip who is willing to let his own anger and xenophobia get in the way of what he's supposed to be doing; which is making sure Spock doesn't get himself seriously injured so as to effect the experiments. Edison? he's the over confident doctor who thinks the people working for him, and with him, wouldn't dare go against his orders, especialy the Warden of the prison.**


End file.
